


the house down the road from real love

by sidnihoudini



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Cheating, Emotional Infidelity, Entropy, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 13:04:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 95,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9728141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidnihoudini/pseuds/sidnihoudini
Summary: If any kind of business partner Cupid matchmaking service is listening right now, he would like someone to come along who can charm the pants off of anyone, please.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HERE IT IS
> 
> This story has lovingly been referred to as Homewrecker between myself and @adios-esposito since last summer.
> 
> [Here](http://thenavynumber.tumblr.com/post/148625782984/sebastiansource-sebastians-reaction-when-a-fan) is the Seb from this story, and [here](http://thenavynumber.tumblr.com/post/149350537474) is the Chris. You can also check out the [homewrecker](http://thenavynumber.tumblr.com/tagged/homewrecker%20au) tag on @thenavynumber for more ~inspo.
> 
> HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!

_Harlem, New York_

*

“I’m gonna get ya!” Chris exclaims, laughing until he trips over the end of the plastic slide.

The sun is just beginning to dip below their row of brownstones. It’s been a long summer - busy as hell - but Chris is grateful and content below the pink and blue sky.

“Daddy!” his son screams, surprised when Chris comes tearing around the side of the wooden playhouse.

Cackling like a maniac, Chris runs at his son with both arms out. They both crack each other up when Chris yanks him down off the top platform of the playhouse, and swings him over one shoulder.

The noise gets the dog barking, which immediately sets off a neighborhood chain reaction.

“Dodger,” Chris laughs, a little out of breath as he sets Austin down on his bare feet. “Shut up.”

Jazzed up on adrenaline and sugar, Austin screams and takes off towards the playhouse again, hat flipping backwards off his head as he goes. Chris bends down to snag it off the grass, and frisbees it in the general direction of the back door.

The hat landing against the stone makes Dodger stop barking; he goes to investigate that sound instead.

“Hey buddy,” Chris calls, making his way towards his son. “It’s almost time to go inside.”

Austin’s already back in the belly of the playhouse. He bangs on something and yells, “No!”

With a sigh, Chris wanders back a few steps, and drops down into one of the wooden deck chairs. He’s been meaning to move this set off the grass and onto the patio bricks for weeks.

His wife has asked him four times.

~

Chris has been working a lot lately, but it’s worth it.

All of these early mornings and late nights have been hard, but the extra hours have made it possible for him to have his cake and eat it, too.

It’s all because of Amy. His wife - god, his beautiful, intelligent wife, who has no business being with him at all - makes it easy for Chris to succeed. He knows that. He knows that she could do all of this without him; that, if he disappeared tomorrow, the house and the kids and the money and the dog would all be taken care of.

She is a good woman, and she is good to Chris.

When he doubts himself, Amy is the one who holds onto his face, and tells him how important he is. He isn’t - important - but god, he loves her for trying to change his mind.

Amy is the only reason the project Chris has been working on for the last two years is going anywhere at all.

It’s a business - now, recently, soon - and no longer constrained to exist only as a sloppy sketch on the back of a bar napkin. It has legs, suddenly, and Chris has an investor and a developer and a lawyer, just like a real boy. The only thing he’s missing is a business partner.

In Chris’s experience, there isn’t a single human being in all of Manhattan willing to involve themselves with a tech start-up on the ground level. Apparently people in New York still remember the Dot-com bubble burst, go figure.

As a direct result, Chris is dick deep in going over an investment proposal by himself.

In less than twelve hours, he’ll be taking part in a business meeting - one in a row of many that are already down - with the third largest tech investment firm in New York City. Rumor has it, they may have a million-plus dollars to invest in Chris’s little app that could.

But, that being said, depending on Chris’s performance tomorrow, they also may not.

Chris just… really doesn’t shine when it comes to the investment proposals. Every presentation stresses him out, and, in return, they never get any better. He just ends up sweaty and dizzy, left to compensate for his fading personality by babbling talking points and gripping his notecards.

Funny anecdote: three months ago, Chris locked himself in the women’s bathroom at Venture Capital. He sat on the toilet, sweating bullets and googling heart attack symptoms, and missed his meeting. That fumble cost him 1.5 million dollars in funding.

Twelve weeks of curdling flash memories from that day later, Chris is still looking to secure equivalent funding.

That is why he’s sitting here now, already stressed out over his presentation in the morning.

Chris squeezes his eyes tight, and tries to shake it off.

If any kind of business partner Cupid matchmaking service is listening right now, he would like someone to come along who can charm the pants off of anyone, please. With a wish and a sigh, Chris goes back to staring at the little notecard he’s written his main talking points on.

He’s zoned out and reading the same bullet point for the third time in a row when Amy interrupts him.

“You look busy,” she murmurs against one ear, arms going around his shoulders from behind.

“I’m not,” Chris promises, automatically turning towards her when she leans in and kisses his cheek. “I’m too riddled with insecurity to be busy.”

Laughing, Amy crosses her wrists over his chest, and rests her chin on one shoulder. Her eyelashes flicker over her cheeks as she reads Chris’s notes quietly.

When Even, his business idea, was in its infancy, Amy was the one who watched him run through his first pitch. Their daughter was a month old, Amy was still on bed rest, and Chris was only wearing his undies. Even though these talking points are nothing new - some even date all the way back to that night - she makes a soft sound of interest, anyways.

“Don’t be anxious,” she finally murmurs, thumbing his earlobe. “You’re going to be amazing.”

As a kneejerk reaction, Chris whispers back, “Shut up.”

“That is never gonna happen,” she replies, and they grin at each other until she knocks the sides of their heads together gently, and says, “It’s after midnight. Bed?”

Frowning down at the cards some more, Chris nods, and lets her tug him up from his chair.

~

Chris isn’t amazing.

He fumbles his notecards. He talks way, way too loud. He sweats through his shirt.

On the way back to the cab, he sits down on a curb in his good pants, and tries to stop himself from hyperventilating. And, somewhere in-between sitting down and getting yelled at by the cab driver, still idling a few feet away, Chris calls Amy because he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Hey, I can’t get to my phone right now, but you know what to do!” her familiar voice says, before a beep.

After Chris has ended the call, he looks down at his hands, and realizes they’re still shaking from fear and adrenaline.

He has no idea what anyone sees in him, and wonders, not for the first time in his life, how he’s going to make this work.

~

By the time Chris gets home an hour and a half later, he’s in a better mood.

Amy’s bent over the kitchen island, flipping through a cookbook when Chris shuffles into the doorway.

“How did it go?” she smiles, pushing a piece of fallen hair back behind one ear.

On the other side of the room, Chris lets his shoulders slump a little. He admits, “It could’ve gone better.”

With a frown, Amy crosses the room and holds both arms out, hands crossing over his back as she gives him a hug.

~

Chris does his best to forget about the meeting.

Every time that icepick of memory sticks deep in his brain, he squeezes his eyes closed, and tries to think of anything else.

He makes his kids pancakes. He drops Austin off at school in the morning, and gets there ten minutes early to pick him up in the afternoon. He chats with the other school moms, and makes them laugh when he tells a funny story. He watches movies with his wife after the kids go to bed, and they have sex on the couch.

When he’s alone, he shuts himself in his home office and rewrites the proposal, trying to get his head back on straight.

“I gotta find someone better at this than I am,” he rants to his brother, on speakerphone one afternoon.

Scott’s been doing all his legal work pro bono - one of the many advantages of having a lawyer for a brother. Today they’re trying to finish the paperwork they need to get the name ‘Even’ trademarked.

“Your bar is too high,” Scott tells him. “Did you get the stuff I faxed over for the logo?”

Frowning, Chris shuffles through the shit on his desk until he finds them, and then offers a belated, “Yeah.”

“I needed those back yesterday, dickbag,” Scott replies. “But, you know. It’s not important or anything.”

Chris actually did mean to sign them, but between everything else going on, they genuinely slipped his mind. He gives Scott a yeah yeah, and reaches for a pen. He needs a business partner, and then he needs a receptionist who will make sure he has his goddamn shit in order.

As if Scott is reading his mind, he says, “The realtor said you’ll be able to close on the office space next month.”

“Phenomenal,” Chris says, and means it. It’s been hell working from home. “Where am I faxing these forms back to?”

Scott rattles off the fax number to his office, sending Chris scrambling to find a post-it to write it down on.

“Teamwork,” Scott says, a few minutes later. On both sides of the line, their fax machines squeal and beep, chugging through the four sheets of paperwork Chris signed.

As the last one spits itself back out of the machine, Chris sighs, “There we go. Hey, are you coming to the barbeque this weekend? Amy sent out Facebook invites.”

“You guys are so old. Nobody uses Facebook invites anymore,” Scott scoffs, shuffling papers. “But yes, for the free food and the free booze, I will. I’ll be there with bells on, in fact.”

“Party,” Chris says, already distracted as an email from his developer arrives. The subject says RELEASE UPDATE NOTES, which means Chris is really gonna have to concentrate when he reads it. As he clicks the message open, he says to Scott, “See you Saturday, man.”

“I see how it is,” Scott replies, but then adds, “Bye, homeboy,” anyway.

~

“No bath,” his daughter says.

Sighing, Chris, half bent over the bathtub, turns the water off.

“Yes bath,” he replies, shuffling back to sit down on the closed toilet seat lid. “Come on. Look, we got toys.”

Peyton crosses her arms over her chest, and frowns deeply.

“Hey, here’s your - your bear guy,” Chris tries, willfully ignoring the terrifying expression on her face as he holds up the plastic animal instead. When she doesn’t crack, he arches his eyebrows and bounces the toy a few times. Her poker face is much better than his is. Chris ends up frowning back and saying, “C’mon, buddy. Move it.”

She does acquiesce, but that’s mostly because when she steps forward to get the toy out of Chris’s hand, he seizes the opportunity to lift her up with his free arm.

“Daddy always wins,” he tells her seriously, only joking a little bit.

~

The next morning, Chris wakes up with his son in bed with him instead of his wife.

“Ugh,” he grunts, rubbing his face with one hand. He stretches out, and looks at the alarm clock over his shoulder.

Barely 8:30.

“Hi daddy,” Austin says, without taking his eyes off the TV on the wall across from the bed. “I’m watching cartoons. Mommy took Peyton to gymnastics.”

That sounds right. Chris definitely forgot about it, but gymnastics is a reasonable explanation for their early Saturday morning exodus.

“Thanks, pal,” he yawns, rubbing at his eyes as he tries to wake himself up.

After a minute of laying there, Chris rolls over and reaches for his phone. Right away, he fumbles it off the side of the nightstand, and simultaneously loses one of Amy’s rogue paperback books to the black space behind it.

Unsurprisingly, nobody has texted him. All he has are a couple of Facebook notifications he’ll never open, and an email from Scott.

He fucks around on Reddit until Austin’s show ends, and then heaves himself out of bed.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, picking up his robe from the end of the bed.

Austin nods. He’s always hungry - it’s not really indicative of when he actually ate last.

After tying up his robe, Chris waits at the end of the bed, one arm out while Austin clumsily gets to his feet and staggers across the mattress, swaying against the give of the pillow top. When he gets to the foot of the bed, Chris heaves him up against one side.

He’s almost too big to carry, but that doesn’t stop Chris from hauling him across the room.

Downstairs, preparation for tonight’s barbeque is already underway. The kitchen counters are covered with bags full of hamburger buns, potato chips, and - thanks to Amy remembering them - paper plates with plastic utensils.

Chris sets Austin down butt first on the counter, and gets out a couple of bowls for cereal.

Austin talks the whole time Chris makes coffee, rattling off a story about school, and then a full recap of the show he watched upstairs. Chris doesn’t feel like cleaning up a literal bowl of spilled milk today, so he moves them over to the kitchen table, where they eat and watch a trailer for the newest superhero movie on Chris’s phone.

By the time Amy and Peyton get home at 10, Chris is trying to get a handle on what they need to do for the barbeque.

“Daddy!” Peyton yells, jacked up on post-gymnastics adrenaline and Starbucks.

Chris picks her up automatically, intercepting before she has a chance to violently wrap herself around his legs, and smacks a kiss to the side of her head. She looks so much like Amy sometimes, it makes his chest feel funny.

Amy pats him on the ass as she shuffles by, en route to the fridge, and just like that, the day is in full swing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kind comments on the first chapter! If you're still enjoying, let me know :)

The weather tonight is perfect for a barbeque.

With a beer in one hand, Chris gets the fire going as he laughs and jokes with a few of the people who have already arrived.

Scott rolls in right as Chris is cracking his second beer. Without as much as a hello, he hands Chris a business card.

“I met her at the florist,” Scott explains, as Chris frowns down at the card.

“Well, you are super gay,” Chris assesses, flipping the card over, and then back again.

Scott snorts, then says, “Whatever, bro. She said she knows a couple investors - she’s a financial advisor! That’s legit as fuck!”

“I’ll call her,” Chris promises, trying to avoid an argument.

He isn’t meeting with another investor until he’s got someone to give them the old razzle dazzle.

“You want a beer?” Chris asks, pocketing the card. As Scott peers around, unimpressed, Chris smiles and waves at Amy’s friend coming through the side gate. He presses a hand against Scott’s shoulder to lead him over to the barbeque pit, and adds, “I got some porter with your name on it.”

“Wow,” Scott replies, but it’s more of an ‘oh wooowww’ than actual ‘wow.’ 

Chris hands the beer over, and rubs the condensation off his hand onto his t-shirt.

“I’m gonna go get the meat,” he says, distractedly pointing back to the fire. “Everyone’s over there.”

“I know,” Scott replies automatically, popping the bottle cap off with his ring. “Where the kids at?”

As if on cue, Peyton and Austin come screaming by, two little flashes of pink and orange before they disappear into the playhouse, cackling.

“They’re definitely up to something,” Chris says serenely, patting Scott’s shoulder on his way back to the house.

In the kitchen, Amy is standing and laughing with a couple people Chris has never met before.

“Oh, there he is,” Amy grins, switching her beer from one hand to the other to wave him over. “This is Chris, my husband.”

Chris smiles and makes his way over. As he approaches, he automatically wipes his hand off on the thigh of his jeans and stretches forward, arm out so he can shake hands with the girl standing closest to Amy first.

“Hi, nice to meet you!” he says.

Beside him, Amy points with her beer as she says, “This is Brie, I think you guys met at the Christmas party last year,” Nope, Chris doesn’t remember that. He stretches further, and shakes the hand of the guy next to her, “And this is Sebastian, Brie’s friend.”

Chris nods a standard what’s up at Sebastian, and lets go of his hand.

“Glad you guys could make it, I’m just about to put the meat on,” he explains, glancing back over his shoulder to where Amy has already set the hamburgers and hot dogs out on the counter. “You two are eating, right?”

“Brie’s a vegan,” Amy supplies automatically, offering another smile at Brie to add, “But we have salad and shit - I got you.”

Sebastian laughs at that, eyebrows arching up as he says, “I’ll eat hers, don’t worry.”

“That’s my kinda guy,” Chris grins, jostling Sebastian a little.

Amy rolls her eyes and laughs, “Alright, well, come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone else.”

“Sure,” Brie agrees.

The three of them leave Chris to it, so Chris goes back to his original plan, jamming a slice of cold cut turkey in his mouth as he picks up a plate of hamburgers with each hand.

~

Once every piece of meat in the house is cooked up, Chris snags the last burger, and retires to the firepit with a beer.

As he’s dropping himself down into the chair beside Scott, Peyton runs up, all, “Daddy daddy daddy daddy.”

“Whoa,” he greets, managing to move his food out of the way right as she makes bodily impact with his thigh. As an afterthought, he moves his beer, too. “What’s up, buddy?”

Peyton climbs up into his lap, face covered in some kind of residue. She says, “Nothin!”

“That’s suspicious,” Chris agrees, stretching to set his food on the table between he and Scott’s chairs.

As Peyton settles back into his chest, Chris tries to brush her hair from her face. Some pieces are fully stuck to her cheek, and when he tugs them free, she reaches up to smack his hand away.

“Listen, sister,” Chris frowns, holding her hand down as he tugs another strand free. “You’re a mess.”

She lets it go on for far longer than Chris would have originally thought, squinting and making faces into the distance as Chris rubs at her cheek with the napkin from under his beer. It’s a little boozy, but if anything, the alcohol helps break down the stickiness.

“Daddy,” Peyton finally grimaces, turning away from his efforts.

It’s good enough. Chris reaches for his plate again, and settles back, watching her profile as she watches Scott and the other guys on their side of the fire: the new guy - Sebastian - and another one of Amy’s yoga friends that Chris doesn’t remember the name of.

The three of them are talking about some Broadway stuff Chris knows nothing about. He’s a musical kinda guy, sure, but that love essentially ends at long format Disney movies, and doesn’t exactly translate to the stage.

Scott has begun to rant about Guys and Dolls as Chris takes his last bite of burger.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says honestly, wiping his mouth with the same napkin he used to clean Peyton’s sticky face off with. Sebastian laughs as Chris adds, “I’m more of an Under the Sea guy.”

Peyton perks up at that, both arms stretching up to hit Chris in the face as she kicks one leg up and exclaims, “Yes!”

“You like Ariel?” Sebastian asks, looking at her seriously.

She makes a face back at him and replies, “Ursula.”

Chris laughs at the top of her head as Sebastian cracks up, nose wrinkling up as he smiles.

“I like the crab!” Sebastian tells her, before turning his attention back to Scott. He says, “Guys and Dolls is the first show I ever saw after moving to New York. I have a soft spot for it.”

Still a little lost, Chris takes a sip of his beer instead, and asks, “You from the coast?”

“Kind of,” Sebastian grins, looking over at Chris. “Austria, mostly. Before that, Romania.”

“Kind of, he says,” Scott laughs.

Chris, on the other hand, raises his eyebrows, and brings his bottle up to give Sebastian a cheers.

“Props,” he adds, barely clinking their beers together. “That’s legit, man.”

“I guess,” Sebastian shrugs, laughing. “I got rid of my accent as fast as I could.”

With a grin, Chris puts on his heaviest Boston bro voice, and says, “Ahhh, I love a good accent.”

Sebastian rests his beer against his chest and tips his head back, laughing, as Chris grins.

“Mine was a little more Dracula, and a little less Ben Affleck,” he finally allows.

Shrugging, Chris laughs and goes to take a sip of his beer.

“I need a refill,” he announces, polishing the end of the bottle off. He sets Peyton down feet first on the ground, reaches for Scott’s empty, and nods towards Sebastian’s hand. “You want one?”

Sebastian looks down at his hand, like he’s considering whether he wants another drink or not. He gives in pretty quickly, tipping his head back to swallow the last couple mouthfuls before he hands the empty back to Chris.

“Good man,” he grins, winking at Sebastian before he turns around, and heads towards the bar.

~

Amy puts the kids to bed once the first round of dinner-goers leave.

Chris ends up sitting around the fire with a group of friends, but mostly talking with Sebastian.

“Your kids are funny as hell,” Sebastian grins, looking up at Chris’s face as Chris walks back to his chair, pausing to kick a toy away from the edge of the fire pit.

“Thanks, man,” Chris replies, genuinely appreciating the compliment. As he sits back down, he sets his fresh beer to the side, and laughs, “I wanted to name one of them Tom Brady, couldn’t get Amy to go for it, though.”

Sebastian laughs, head dropping backwards and one hand coming up to his chest.

“If that isn’t grounds for divorce, I don’t know what is,” he sighs, still cracking up a little bit. Chris watches as Sebastian’s laughter fades, that ebb and flow, and he brings a hand up to thumb at the side of his nose. All of a sudden he’s cracking up again, but manages to add, “Tom Brady, yeah, my god, that’s a strong name for a kid.”

Grinning, Chris watches Sebastian until he stops laughing again, and then admits, “I don’t know how she puts up with me.”

“Well, Brie’s got nothing but nice things to say about her,” Sebastian smiles, rubbing a palm over the thigh of his jeans. He gives Chris a sneaky look, and adds, “She usually has something to say about people.”

Chris laughs, caught off guard, and then asks, “You and Brie are together?”

“No,” Sebastian answers immediately. “Best friends since senior year.”

Nodding, Chris says, “Gotcha,” and lets his gaze drift across the fire, to where his buddies are discussing last night’s game.

“She said you’re working on a start-up?” Sebastian asks, sounding curious.

He immediately has Chris’s full attention.

“Yeah, I’m - working on it, you know?” Chris sighs, shaking his head. “It’s hard as hell, man.”

Sebastian nods, says, “The last place I worked was a start-up. Everyone was just… constantly exhausted.”

Now there’s something Chris can relate to.

“It’s rough,” he nods, sincerely. When Sebastian looks more interested, and not less, he adds, “Right now it’s just me, a developer, and, well. That’s pretty much it,” he pauses to laugh, smiling when Sebastian does, and continues, “I lucked out, my brother is also a lawyer, so - you know. That helps a lot. We’re moving into an office space next month, so I guess I’ll have a receptionist soon, too.”

“A receptionist!” Sebastian exclaims, teasing. “I’m in the market for a job, mind if I submit my resume?”

Laughing, Chris takes a sip of his beer, and shrugs, “If you’re open to working for pennies, I’ll hire you right now.”

“I’m more of a couple bucks an hour kinda guy,” Sebastian grins, attention drifting back to the crackling fire.

There’s a pause as Chris processes what Sebastian said, and then he arches an eyebrow, looks over, and asks, “Are you actually looking for a job right now? What do you do?”

“Yeah, I just got laid off,” Sebastian sighs, stretching his legs out, crossing his feet at the ankles. He rests his beer on his thigh, and explains, “I’m in Marketing. The firm I spent six years with went under last week. Headed into work on a Monday, everything was normal, and on Tuesday, the doors were locked.”

Chris makes a noise, and says, “That’s rough as hell, man, jeez. Last week I lost a seven figure investment because I couldn’t stop sweating. I dropped my presentation cards everywhere.”

He’s definitely a little drunker than he thought; usually Chris Facts don’t come out until after the fifth or sixth round.

“What?!” Sebastian laughs, eyebrows arching as he leans forward, goggling at Chris. “You’re joking, right?”

Without hesitation, Chris makes a face, and shakes his head. After a moment of eye contact, he can no longer hold it together, and cracks up, laughing at himself as he leans forward and groans into the palm of one hand.

“I wish I was,” he admits, fingers steepled between his brows.

When he drops his hand back to one knee, Sebastian has moved, hips lifted up off the deck chair as he tries to get his wallet out of his back pocket.

“Listen, I don’t wanna get all… businessy, or whatever,” Sebastian grins, flipping his wallet open one-handed. It looks way more expensive than the thing Chris has been wedging his credit cards into for fifteen years. “But I’ll regret not giving you my card. Especially if I end up thinking about you dropping note cards all over the place again.”

Chris laughs at himself again, blushing a little this time, and rests one hand over his own face until Sebastian takes pity, and holds his business card out. An offering to Chris’s weary soul.

Without thinking, Chris reaches out, and accepts it.

_Sebastian Stan - Account Executive_

“Sebastian Stan,” Chris reads, lips curving into a bit of a smile. He looks up abruptly, and catches Sebastian staring back at him. “Now that’s a good name.”

Mouth curving up into a smile, Sebastian arches one eyebrow, sips his beer, and replies, “Chris isn’t bad, either.”

~

The rest of the weekend goes by in a snap-flash.

Chris doesn’t understand how it’s humanly possible to go from Friday night to Monday morning in the blink of an eye; all of a sudden here he is, back to the grind, with only his coffee cup and set of new floor plans for company.

These are for the new office - something Chris still isn’t exceptionally confident about.

It’s going to be weird, and stressful, making this official. Up until now, he’s just been working from home, and contracting others when he needs work done. Once everything is set up, his developer is going to be within arm’s reach - literally - and he’s going to have to hire at least one, but more likely two or three, additional employees.

That is, theoretically, a lot of ones and zeroes and dollar signs.

The house has been quiet all morning, too, which has him on edge. Amy left just after 7:30. She took the kids to school, she went to a dentist appointment, she swung by a drop-in hot yoga session. She’s still meeting a friend for lunch, and filming a video to put up on her YouTube channel. Also, she’ll probably pick the kids up this afternoon, because Chris is busy.

He’s got floor plans.

“Floor plans,” he sighs to himself, slapping the folder closed, and dropping his forehead on top of it.

Maybe he’ll hire an interior decorator at some point. Scott has got to have recommendations for that.

Chris lays there for a minute, sad and hunched over in the shoulders and momentarily defeated, before sitting himself back up, and flipping his laptop open. He should get back to working on his investment proposal. The shitty fucking bane of his existence that will probably end in tears and ulcers.

Sighing, Chris props his chin up on one hand, and reads over the first few lines.

He knows the whole thing backwards and forwards. He needs a prescription for a sedative, not to read it over again.

As Chris is skimming over the end of the first paragraph, he remembers his conversation with Sebastian the other night, at the barbeque. _I’ll regret not giving you my card. Especially if I end up thinking about you dropping note cards all over the place again._

The memory makes him smile a little, and forget what he was reading.

Chris goes back to the beginning of the line he skipped, and reads it again. And then he reads it three more times before he admits he’s not going to get anywhere - he’s been trying to remember where he put Sebastian’s business card this whole time.

Distracted, Chris rummages around the things on his desk. He probably left Sebastian’s card in the jeans he was wearing that night, but Amy did the laundry yesterday and --

Aha.

Sitting there like a little beacon of light, there it is. Sebastian Stan.

 _Thank god for Amy,_ Chris thinks, as he leans back in his office chair, and holds the business card between his thumb and pointer finger.

If it weren’t for her, Sebastian’s contact information probably would have ended up in the trash.

Chris isn’t going to call, though. That’s weird. It’s not 1999, and, aside from that short conversation, they didn’t talk much about business. He isn’t even that clear on what it is, exactly, Sebastian does.

Instead, Chris goes back to his laptop, and types up a quick email.

~

_Hi Sebastian,_

_Thanks again for coming to the BBQ the other night, it was really nice meeting you._

_Can I ask what it is exactly you’re looking for? My start-up (I included a link to the website below) is in full swing, and aside from a receptionist, what I’m really looking for, is a business partner._

_But the receptionist gig is totally yours if you want it._

_Anyway, if you’re intrigued (like at all), let me know, and I’ll send some more specific information over. If it’s not your scene, I totally get it, and it was nice meeting you and hanging out regardless. You and Brie can come back whenever. I got a beer waiting with your name on it._

_:)_

_Chris  
_  
~

Chris forgets about the email until that night, when he and Amy are eating leftovers in front of the TV.

He sets his plate down on the coffee table, and slides the message open on his phone.

“Babe, you’re gonna burn yourself out,” Amy says, but she isn’t unkind.

Chewing his mouthful, Chris swallows, and says, “Last one, I promise,” over his shoulder - even though he doesn’t really mean it.

~

_Hey man,_

_Thanks for your email! I checked out your site, and I really love what you’re doing. Do you want to meet up for a drink sometime this week? I’d love to hear more about it in person._

_\- Sebastian_

~

“Fuck,” Chris blurts, almost knocking his fork off the coffee table.

From the other side of the couch, Amy raises her eyebrows, wine glass halfway to her mouth.

A little echoey, she asks, “What?” into her drink.

“You remember that guy Brie brought the other night?” Chris asks, still looking a little desperately at his phone. He fumbles open a reply as Amy makes a noise of agreement, and awkwardly stretches forward, trying to set her glass back down on the coffee table without moving her body. Chris shoots her a look, and says, “He’s in marketing.”

Pausing, fingers still crooked against the base of her glass, Amy raises her eyebrows, and says, “No shit.”

“Shit,” Chris laughs, “AND, and, he likes what I’m doing with Even.”

That makes Amy clap, a huge grin on her face as she leans forward, one foot tucked at an awkward angle as she tries to see over Chris’s shoulder.

“Baby, oh my god!” she exclaims, right into his ear - in a good way. “What are you going to say!?”

Laughing still, half nervous and half elated, Chris waves her off, typing in a few words before he admits, “I don’t know, maybe we can get lunch, or something - this might be the guy.”

“Your guy,” she smiles again, leaning back into the couch as she says, earnest, “I am throwing so much good juju your way right now.”

With a sneaky grin back over to her, Chris makes a nervous face, and tries to write a cool email.

~

_Phenomenal!!!_

_I saw a new burger place on Edgecombe I wouldn’t say no to trying. Food and a beer? Thursdays and Saturdays work best._

_Chris_

_~_

_You got it. Thursday at noon, I’ll see you there._

_\- Sebastian_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all your nice comments!!! Chapter three is HERE :)

“Hey,” Chris commands, sticking his head around the door. “Go to sleep.”

In bed, Austin laughs and shouts, “No!” from under his blankets.

“Buddy,” Chris sighs, flipping the main light back off. “Your sister is asleep, don’t wake her up.”

Austin kicks his blanket off, throws his arms up, and yells, “I’m awake!”

“Alright,” Chris announces, putting on his dad voice. 

Austin has a moment of panic as Chris walks across the room, and yells a quick, “Ah!” even though he's still laughing.

By the time Chris gets to the edge of the bed, Austin is already back under the covers. After fixing Austin’s sheets, Chris tucks the well-worn teddy bear back in underneath his arm, and reiterates, “Sleep.”

His son, the apple of Chris's eye, sticks his tongue out, and then closes his eyes. 

Chris considers that an alright win for the night. 

~

Three days later, Chris walks over to the little burger place on Edgecombe.

The whole way there, he tries his best to ignore the snake pit of nerves already beginning to brew in his stomach. This is nothing! This isn’t even a real business meeting. This is just two guys, getting together to talk about things.

He has no reason to squirm and turn red and babble until he sweats. Not yet, anyway.

“Chris!” Sebastian calls, waving him over. He’s at a little table in the corner, and he’s already got a beer.

When Chris smiles back, Sebastian turns off the screen of his phone, and grins.

It’s just a tiny place, with brick walls and butcher block tables. Cute, but nothing special. By the time Chris makes it over to where Sebastian is sitting, he’s tripped over someone’s purse, and knocked into the back of someone’s head.

Sebastian laughs, and greets him with a handshake and a kind, “Hey!”

“What’s up?” Chris automatically replies, flustered. He’s trying to stay chill, he is, but his bumbling trip across the restaurant is kind of putting him at a disadvantage already. Sebastian seems - thankfully - charmed.

“Not much,” Sebastian smiles, settling back as Chris settles in. “I ordered two beers, hope that’s alright.”

Hopes that’s alright, he says. It’s the best thing Chris has heard all day.

“That’s perfect!” he exclaims, finally taking an actual seat. Sebastian watches Chris curiously as he sets both hands on the table and takes a deep breath, shoulders rising and falling as he does so. When Sebastian arches an eyebrow at the suspicious behavior, Chris raises both of his back, and says, “I gotta admit, I’m nervous.”

That makes Sebastian laugh, openly surprised. His mouth drops open as he exclaims, “Why?!”

“I don’t know! It’s just what I do,” Chris laughs nervously, a little embarrassed, but also relieved to get it out there. Now if he starts going red, at least Sebastian will understand why. “This is my problem, Seb!”

Sebastian smiles crookedly, studying Chris’s expression before he says, “It’s only a problem if you let it be a problem.”

“Oh god, I need a drink before I get philosophical.”

That gets another laugh out of Sebastian, right as the waitress rolls up with their beers and a smile.

“Thanks,” Sebastian grins up at her, helping as she flips two little cardboard coasters down to set their drinks on.

Chris looks at Sebastian’s hands - tanned, good knuckles - and then hers, as she pulls out a little pad of paper and a pen.

“Can I get you guys any food?” she asks, hip angling out towards them as she shifts her weight back onto one foot.

Food? They look at each other across the table like two deers in headlights.

“Uhhh,” Sebastian manages, watching as Chris scrambles for the menu. It flops open to the middle, which is fine - they’re all burgers, they’re all delicious - but before Chris can babble a panic order out, Sebastian smiles up at her and asks, “Give us a minute, if you don’t mind?”

Trying to play it equally cool, Chris watches from over the top of his menu as she smiles back at Sebastian, and then retreats.

He looks back over at Sebastian, and gets clocked. Immediately.

“I think I’m gonna go for the classic cheeseburger,” Sebastian says, openly studying Chris’s expression. “Keep it simple, right?”

Chris grins at him, and teases, “Wow, Mr. Marketing at work.”

Across the table, Sebastian laughs a little and leans forward, twisting his beer around to get to the side dripping foam.

“That’s my job,” he grins, settling back in his chair.

Shaking his head, Chris tisks and flips to the next page in the menu.

“Wink and a smile, and you’re selling things to me left and right,” he jokes.

When the waitress comes back around, Chris orders a classic cheeseburger and fries.

~

Forty minutes later, they’re finishing up the end of their meal, and their third round of beer.

“Sure, why not?” Chris laughs, when the waitress asks if they’d like another round.

As she takes their empties, she flirts, “I like you guys! Coming right up.”

“Now that’s marketing,” Sebastian jokes, when she’s safely out of hearing range.

Chris laughs and leans back in his seat, groaning at how full he is. He probably shouldn’t have powered through that last handful of fries, but they were delicious and he’s not the type of man to hold onto regret. They were totally worth it, and if someone put another bowl in front of him right now, he’d probably eat those, too.

“I’m a little drunk,” he admits, laughing.

With a bright grin, Sebastian accuses, “Lightweight!”

“Hey man, I got kids,” Chris laughs. “I can only drink one, maybe two nights a week.”

That makes Sebastian crack up. Shaking his head a little, he wipes his hands off on a napkin, and tosses it on top of his leftover fries.

“That sounds like a real hardship,” he teases.

“I’m just kidding,” Chris sighs, face serious. He can only hold onto it for one second before he breaks, and his voice betrays his expression as he adds, “It’s more like five or six.”

They’re still joking around when the waitress brings their next round, along with a bowl of guac and chips that she says are on the house.

“Wow, thank you!” Sebastian exclaims, genuinely appreciative.

She smiles back, and replies, “No worries - let me know if you guys need anything else.”

“Sure, yeah,” Sebastian nods, making a face at Chris when she leaves.

Chris smiles, and pulls his beer closer. He’s going to have to nurse this one, just because real estate is at an all-time high in his stomach. The guac and chips are temporarily out, too.

“What,” he asks, a little carb drunk on top of the booze. “You don’t like brunettes?”

Sebastian looks genuinely surprised for a split second, before he laughs and replies, “Brunettes are great.”

“Bad breakup?” Chris tries again, looking a little more earnest. He knots his eyebrows, too.

Grinning from ear to ear, Sebastian leans forward, rests his chin on his fist with his elbow on the table, and says, “Try again.”

“...doing the… celibate th - oh,” Chris says, abruptly cutting himself off. “Wow, I feel stupid. I am drunk.”

Sebastian cracks up and shakes his head a little as he reaches across the table for a chip.

“People are always surprised,” he shrugs, opening his mouth to max width so he can navigate the tortilla inside. Through the crunch, he brushes his hands off, and adds, “I don’t know how or why.”

Chris feels dumbstruck, but finally settles on, “I just… am stupid.”

“Trust me, you’re not,” Sebastian promises. “You’re also not the first one to assume I’m married to Brie.”

That is… definitely something Chris did the night they met.

“Oh,” he says, articulately. “Well. To be fair, I’ve been drunk both times we’ve had this conversation.”

“And this was supposed to be a nerve-wracking business meeting,” Sebastian teases, thumb resting along the length of his beer.

Chris blinks, distracted, and then shakes his head, trying to hide the bit of blush he can feel inching its way up his neck.

“You sound like my wife,” he manages to joke, before putting on a fake, feminine voice that doesn’t sound anything like Amy. He imitates the way she was roasting him over breakfast this morning, and says, “He’s a nice guy, Chris!”

“I get it,” Sebastian says seriously, before breaking out into a sneaky smile. “I am a really very nice guy.”

“You’re also modest,” Chris adds.

Sebastian manages to not laugh as he replies, “I’m the most modest guy I know!”

“God,” Chris smiles, shaking his head a little. Sebastian is way funnier than he expected. Just a really good guy. “I feel kinda bad, we haven’t talked about anything we came here to talk about - I brought a proposal for you, and everything.”

“Uh oh,” Sebastian teases, leaning forward to whisper, “Are you gonna drop it all over the table and make that poor waitress clean it up?”

Chris bursts out laughing, genuinely surprised at Sebastian’s dig, and manages, “Wow, how can I not, with a request like that!”

“Alright,” Sebastian grins, setting his beer to the side, and wiping off the table dramatically with their last clean napkin. He sets his palms down on the table top, raises his eyebrows right up into earnest territory, and announces, “I’m ready. Do your worst. And try not to drop anything in my drink.”

Still laughing, Chris reaches under the table for his bag, and lifts it up to sit in the empty seat beside him.

“I’m definitely not giving you the razzle dazzle now,” he grins, a little hot in the cheeks at Sebastian’s joke, as he tugs out the folder he spent a lot of time putting together last night. Everything Sebastian needs is in there, including a full rundown on the company, as well as the obstacles Chris is currently facing, and what he ultimately needs in a business partner. “I prepared this lengthy document.”

“My god,” Sebastian laughs, eyes wide as he accepts the weighty folder over their bowl of guac. “I look forward to reading this later! Thanks, man.”

Well, that wasn’t as scary as Chris thought it was going to be.

“Now we can get back to drinking,” he jokes, making Sebastian laugh again as he flags the waitress down for another round.

~

It’s three o’clock, and then four o’clock, five o’clock, and before Chris knows it, it’s pitch black outside, and the atmosphere inside is starting to fade from burger joint to mid-week bar.

“I should call my wife,” Chris sighs, drunkenly patting down his chest for his phone. “She’s fucking great.”

Sebastian grins, a little charmed, and nods, “She’s funny. She told me the story of you on-”

“Halloween?” Chris automatically finishes, eyebrows arching up into his hairline as he grins. Sebastian starts laughing immediately, which is really an answer all by itself. Chris shakes his head and says, “Turns out you can’t rouge your cheeks by just pinching the skin.”

That makes Sebastian laugh even more, Chris watches, a little proud of himself, as Sebastian throws his head back and claps.

“Who knew?” he manages, which makes Chris laugh too.

“That’s one of her favorite dumb Chris tales,” Chris smiles, before getting distracted with his newly discovered phone.

He reads the last two text messages Amy sent, and then jerks back into reality when Seb asks, “Hey, you wanna settle up here, and go down the street? There’s a whisky bar on 145th - I’ll grab this one.”

“You sure?” Chris asks, frowning. He’s definitely more than a little drunk, he feels uncoordinated and stumbly as he makes his way to his feet. This is the first time he’s stood up since going for a pee an hour ago. Before Sebastian can answer, Chris adds, “I’ll buy the whisky.”

“Yeah man, go,” Sebastian nods immediately, waving him outside. “We caught happy hour, it’s all good.”

Chris sneaks a twenty onto the table anyways, and then leaves Sebastian to it while he calls Amy.

Out on the street, Chris shuffles, tucking his free hand under one armpit.

When Amy picks up, he hears the kids in the background immediately. They’re fighting over something - Chris can’t tell exactly what - it’s just loud and dramatic.

“Hey babe,” he starts off, trying to put on his best I’m not drunk voice.

She snorts, catching him immediately, and says, “Hey yourself. I bet you smell good right now.”

“Aw yeah,” Chris nods to nobody in particular, patting himself down for cigarettes. “Beer and fries, you know how your guy rolls.”

“Charming,” she laughs, when he interrupts himself to burp. “What’s up?”

He calls off his own search for a cigarette - it’s just an old habit, he hasn’t bought himself a pack in years.

“Still out with my guy - good guy, Amy, he’s a good man. Real funny,” he says seriously, nodding to himself. When Amy makes a soft noise of approval, Chris adds, “We ate, and now we’re gonna drink some more. You’re alright if I come home late?”

Peyton screams in the background, so loud and ear-splitting that Chris cringes, and almost drops his phone.

“HEY,” Amy snaps, tone hard, sharp - mom voice. “Leave your brother alone! Get,” she announces, and Chris can practically see her pointing across the living room, to the time out corner. As Chris is thinking about what she must look like, standing there with a serious look on her face, Sebastian stumbles out of the restaurant. He holds the door open for another couple going in, and then Amy is back a few seconds later, asking, “Hey, sorry, you still there?”

Chris, realizing he was not paying attention, blurts, “Huh?” and then, “Yeah, baby. I’m here.”

When Sebastian spots him on the sidewalk, Chris smiles automatically, and returns the wave he’s thrown.

“Just don’t wake me up when you get home, okay?” she requests. Chris nods automatically, only half paying attention as he watches Sebastian pull out a fresh pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. He lights one up without hesitation, the flame from his lighter licking against the curve of his face in the dim streetlight. In his ear, Amy adds, “I have to be up early tomorrow, so I wanna sleep good.”

Chris didn’t realize how focused he was, until Sebastian catches Chris staring, and holds the pack out, a curious arch to one eyebrow.

One filter is already poking out an inch above the rest - it’s the one that almost came along when Sebastian mouthed his own out - so Chris reaches forward, and takes it without thinking.

“I will,” Chris promises, cigarette going to his mouth, filter resting against his top lip as he speaks. “I’ll see you in the morning, babe, love you.”

“Love you too,” she replies immediately, automatically. “Have fun. Don’t smoke until you puke this time.”

As if she can fucking see him! It’s witchcraft. Chris laughs - literally caught red handed - and flickers his gaze over to Sebastian, who is now standing two feet down the curb smoking and distractedly checking his own emails.

He’s got Chris’s proposal folded up underneath one arm, carefully. Safely.

“I can’t promise that, but I’ll try,” he grins, which makes her laugh. “Alright, baby. Bye.”

“Bye,” she replies, and then Chris hangs up.

He slides his phone back into his pocket, and turns to watch as Sebastian fires back a quick reply to something. He uses both thumbs to type, shoulders up to his ears with his cigarette held in the corner of his mouth.

Chris waits patiently, and then smiles when Sebastian glances back over his way, and asks, “Mind if I borrow your light, too?”

“Oh god,” Sebastian says, looking horrified at himself. He immediately produces his lighter, and adds, “Sorry, man.”

With a laugh, Chris waves him off, and then sticks the cigarette filter back between his lips.

“Thanks,” he breathes a moment later, through an exhalation of smoke, as he hands Sebastian’s lighter back.

He hasn’t smoked in months. His chest feels warm, fuzzy. It makes him nostalgic for an era that doesn’t exist anymore; homesick for the past.

“You good?” Sebastian smiles, laughing just a bit, looking a little unsure at the sudden expression on Chris’s face.

“Yeah,” Chris breathes, confident. He tilts his head in the direction of the whisky bar, grins a little, and says, “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

~

“I met her in college,” Chris says, reaching for another handful of peanuts. “I knew she was it from the moment I saw her.”

On the other side of their tiny, round table, Sebastian smiles back. He raises his eyebrows and states, “Just like that.”

“Just like that,” Chris nods, cracking open a peanut with both hands. As the shell splinters all over his hands, he adds, “I loved her.”

He loves her still, more than anything.

They met at a Jimmy Eat World concert upstate. Chris was a little too drunk, fresh out of the pit after crowd surfing his way into a security guard’s head, and she - she was with her girlfriends, laughing bright like the sun, and tottering around on too high black heels. They saw one another from across the floor, and the trajectory of Chris’s life changed forever.

A few years later, at the wedding, their first dance was to the song that was playing when they met.

Sebastian indulges Chris with his drunk story, smiling at the sweet parts, and laughing at the funny parts.

“My last relationship ended in tears,” Sebastian admits, afterwards.

Curious, Chris settles back, fingers steepled over the rim of his whisky glass as he listens. Lit up like this, by the candle that barely throws enough light to illuminate their small corner of the world, Sebastian frowns. He pauses, clearly remembering something, and then says, voice a little flat and sarcastic, “I really don’t know how to pick ‘em.”

Chris smiles at that, at the slightly embarrassed, fully self-aware expression on Sebastian’s face.

“We’ll find you a man,” Chris promises, before grinning and tilting his glass over Sebastian’s right shoulder. “How about him?”

Laughing, Sebastian shakes his head at first, but then gives in and turns a little, mouth curved into a smile as he sneaks a look over his shoulder.

At the bar, an old, overweight guy is sitting on one of the stools. Even from here, it’s obvious the black flannel and jeans he’s wearing are at least two sizes small for his body. Chris can’t help but giggle as he brings his glass back up to his mouth for another sip.

“I’m good,” Sebastian decides, turning back around. They look at each other, both laughing, until Sebastian admits, “He’s not really my type.”

Now that information sounds intriguing. Chris leans forward, arching one curious eyebrow, and asks, “Oh yeah? What’s your type?”

“Unavailable, for starters,” Sebastian laughs, leaning back the same amount Chris leaned forward. He shrugs and teases, “Other than that, you know. Your standard Abercrombie and Fitch model is fine.”

“Muscle man,” Chris grins approvingly, nodding as he brings the glass back up to his mouth. “Noted. I’ll keep my eye out.”

Still laughing, Sebastian groans a little, and then shakes his head and replies, “I’m alright. I’m better when I’m not in a relationship, I think.”

“I get it,” Chris nods, not getting it. “If my wife ever smartened up and left, I’d probably die alone.”

Sebastian smirks, kicking Chris’s foot a little underneath the table as he teases, “I wouldn’t say that door is closed.”

“It’s fine, I would definitely leave her for Tom Brady,” Chris nods confidently. “She’s comfortable with that.”

Cracking up, Sebastian pushes himself back into his seat, and stretches forward, reaching for the little bowl of peanuts between them. Over candlelight, he exclaims, “Tom Brady?!”

“Oh yeah.” Chris is now blushing a little bit, and there’s no stopping it. Tom Brady is a fucking fox, and Chris would absolutely bone him if given half the opportunity. “Those eyes, man!”

Sebastian grins, and settles back with his peanut.

“So you have a thing for eyes,” he says, dramatically widening his own. “Got it.”

“Gets me every time,” Chris grins, leaning back, sighing. “You might want to invest in some goggles, maybe a patch. You’ve got some pretty ones yourself.”

Sebastian looks back at him, careful but still smiling, and seems to file something away for later.

~

The next morning, Chris wakes up with a groan, and a gummy mouth.

“Ugh,” he manages, shoving himself up onto one elbow. Once he’s steady, he palms his head.

A minute later, Amy laughs and asks, “Are you awake?” from the bathroom.

“No,” Chris replies, and - holy shit - his voice is rough. It sounds like he’s been raked over the coals, recently; he definitely got up to some shit last night, no doubt bookended by smoking WAY too much. He groans a little and grabs at his forehead again, asking, “What time did I get home?”

Amy comes out of the bathroom in a pair of jeans and a Pixies t-shirt. She’s the coolest fucking chick Chris has ever met in his life, so far out of his league that it’s a little alarming.

She finishes rubbing the lotion into her hands, twisting her gigantic engagement ring and wedding band as she goes.

“I was asleep,” she shrugs. “Probably… at least three. Maybe closer to four. I don’t know, though, babe, I took a sleeping pill. I didn’t even wake up until Peyton came in for breakfast.”

“Jesus,” Chris grumbles, looking for his phone in the sheets. “What time is it now?”

Amused, Amy walks over, and picks his phone up off the floor.

“Two,” she replies, with a smirk. Crouching down beside the bed, she kisses his nose, and runs a hand over his head. “I’m gonna take the kids to my mom’s for a bit, but I’ll be back before dinner. I’ll bring pizza. You want anything before I go?”

“No,” Chris grumbles, in full baby mode as he drops back against the pillows. “I was really out that late?”

With a laugh, Amy snags her purse off the chair that sits in the corner of their bedroom. Its only job is to be covered with coats and jackets and second day worn clothes.

She says, “Yes.”

“Sorry, babe,” he sighs, closing his eyes. He might throw up.

If Sebastian decides to sign as partner, they’re going to have to cut down on the Mad Men shit.

~

Once Amy and the kids leave, Chris gets a beer as a hair of the dog type situation, and heads into the backyard to chill with Dodger.

It’s practically the last week of good weather this year; he can feel the rain and snow lurking right around the corner.

Chris throws the frisbee for the dog and debates puking into the bushes, and then plops down in a lawn chair and stares up at the late summer sky. It’s too bright out here. He should have brought sunglasses.

He really wouldn’t mind another cigarette. That would probably make him feel better. God, drunken social smoking is such a bad idea - it always makes him want to pick up the habit again. Amy would definitely kill him; they quit at the same time, and, as far as he knows, she hasn’t backslid the same way Chris always seems to.

Sighing, Chris wrestles the dog with his feet for a bit, and then pulls out his phone to make sure he didn’t do any blackout damage last night.

As a guy in his mid-thirties with a wife and children, it’s not like his hindbrain would be interested in Facebooking any exes, but who knows what kinds of shit he could get into once he was drunk and off running.

He relaxes, nursing his beer with one hand, and flipping through his open apps with the other. He’s happy to see that everything looks right.

As an afterthought, he opens up his messages app, and sends Sebastian a text.

_God, I am hurting right now._

Flipping back to his news app, Chris skims the headlines, and startles when his phone chimes.

_Right there with ya pal_

Smiling a little, Chris sips his beer and fumbles through his reply with one hand. He says, _as long as I’m not alone._

There’s a little “...” that pops up, and Chris watches as it loads and disappears and loads and disappears, before Sebastian simply replies _lol._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I'm the worst. I literally forgot to post this three days in a row.

A week later, Chris is fumbling through another deck of presentation cards when his phone rings.

“Hello?” he answers, picking it up without looking at the screen.

The cards are EVERYWHERE.

“Chris, hey.” It’s Sebastian. “Is this a good time?”

A little kick-start of adrenaline thumps low in Chris’s gut. There’s only one reason Sebastian would be calling mid-day.

“Yeah of course,” he replies automatically, rolling his chair across the room so he can kick the door closed, and drown out the lingering sounds of his kids fucking around downstairs. “What’s up, are you okay?”

“I’m great,” Sebastian promises. “I read your proposal. A couple of times, actually.”

Chris breaks out into a full flop sweat.

“Oh my god, okay,” he groans, tilting back in the chair. He presses one hand to his forehead and looks at the ceiling. “Hit me. You don’t have to let me down gently. I might cry, but I promise I have thick skin.”

Now Sebastian’s laughing. He cackles to himself for a few moments, genuinely tickled, before he says, “I’m in, man. I’ll sign.”

He’ll sign. He’ll sign. He’ll sign. Chris’s heart has a new rhythm, and that’s what it sounds like.

“Yeah?” he grins, unable to stop himself. Before he even realizes it, he’s standing, one hand held up in the sky above his head like he’s at fucking church. He laughs - he’s so fucking stupid - and nervously runs a hand through his hair. “Wow, that’s great news, Seb. Wow.”

“I really admire what you’re doing here,” Sebastian replies, sounding serious this time. “I’d like to be part of it. Honestly, Chris, I really think this has potential.”

“God, you really know what to say to a guy,” Chris laughs, shakily. “I’ll get my lawyer to call you with the details. Do you want anything from me in the meantime? More info? Expensive champagne? A blowjob?”

Sebastian laughs again, and says, “I’m good, I think, on all those things. What’s your lawyer’s name?”

“Scott,” Chris says immediately, and then, “Evans. He’s my brother. You met him at the barbeque.”

“Alright, man,” Sebastian sighs, sounding a little relieved himself. “I’m looking forward to it.”

~

When Chris gets down to the kitchen, he must look like he’s in shock.

“What’s wrong?” Amy asks, as soon as she sees him. She stops what she’s doing - chopping veggies at the kitchen island - and looks alarmed as she blurts, “Chris, what the fuck!”

The tremor of panic in her voice snaps Chris back to life. He breaks out into a grin as he starts punching his way over to her, pow pow pow at the air, nose wrinkled up in a genuine smile.

“He signed,” Chris announces, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face into her shoulder. “He loves it.”

Chris hears her drop her knife against the counter, the thunk of the blade and then the heavy handle as it hits the cutting board.

“Oh my god!” she exclaims, wiggling around in Chris’s embrace, until she can throw both arms around his shoulders and hug him tight. “That’s so amazing - Chris! Oh my god!”

Overwhelmed, Chris laughs and blinks down at her, a little teary-eyed with excitement and lingering nerves.

Whether he realizes it yet or not, Sebastian has changed the entire trajectory of Chris’s life and business.

Looking back, Chris should have known that’s where it would start.

~

It takes three and a half weeks to get through all the paperwork.

Sebastian’s lawyer and Scott do most of the legwork themselves, so, by the time Chris and Sebastian actually have to show their faces to sign, it’s just a couple of signatures over coffee between the four of them.

“Really great work you’re doing, man,” Pete, Sebastian’s lawyer, says, extending his hand for Chris to shake. “I’m looking forward to seeing this grow.”

It’s a kind sentiment, so Chris smiles back and claps him on the shoulder, squeezing a little out of nervous habit.

“So that’s it?” Chris asks, looking between where Scott is packing up his shit, and Sebastian is reclined back in an office chair, holding his to-go coffee cup to his chest. “We’re all set up, no more red tape?”

Scott shrugs. Pete nods, confident.

“So where’s this office space you’ve been promising me?” Sebastian grins, spinning a little from side to side.

It’s possible that Chris is still maybe a little bit in shock.

“I think I might have whiplash,” Chris confides, instead of answering. He laughs and leans against the conference table beside Sebastian’s chair, both hands hung between his thighs. “This is crazy, man.”

Sebastian smiles up at him, and then shrugs a little.

“Can’t go back now,” he jokes, which gets a laugh out of Chris.

~

After Sebastian signs on as partner, things begin to clip along at an outstanding pace.

Scott makes good on his promise, and a few days later, they close on the office space. It’s taken the better part of three months to get into, mostly because it’s an industrial space that was recently foreclosed on by its previous owners. Sebastian must be his good luck charm or something, because a few days after the last paper is signed, Chris is given keys to their building.

Located in East Harlem, between 2nd and 3rd, sits their new office. To the right of a butcher and to the left of a crumbling bodega, it’s a brick and iron thing that Chris fell in love with the moment he saw it.

“Jeez,” Sebastian assesses, eyebrows arching up into his hairline as Chris cranks open the street facing door, and lets them both inside.

The previous owners were an online t-shirt company that completely crashed and burned. As of today - the first day Chris has walked into it since the final inspection - their abandoned still sits, lonely and sad, over the reception area. There are also three blown out cardboard boxes of neon yellow shirts stacked along the furthest wall.

When Sebastian notices them, he laughs and immediately heads over.

“Anything good?” Chris asks, opening the blinds, and flipping light switches as he passes them by.

Behind the reception area sits the main office space, big and bright and open. To the right, a kitchen and bathroom, and beyond that, a private meeting room, and larger conference room.

It’s the perfect office space for a teeny tiny start-up to find its feet in. Chris feels like a proud parent again.

“Nope,” Sebastian reviews a minute later, crouched beside the small mountain of box treasure.

Chris sticks his hands in his pockets and watches the back of Sebastian’s head as he rummages around, looking for anything that isn’t a misprinted t-shirt or its packing slip.

They end up touring the rest of the space room by room. Chris narrates all of the minor repairs that were pointed out to him during inspection, and Sebastian takes notes of all the cosmetic changes they’ll have to make on his phone. For the most part, it’s nothing crazier than putting a new sink into the kitchen, and replacing a missing brick in the conference room wall.

“We don’t really have offices,” Chris explains, as they make their way back to the main office space. “I’m kind of into communal workspaces.”

Sebastian smiles at that and wanders around the cavernous room, looking up at the industrial beamed ceilings and the gigantic floor to ceiling windows. As he flips light switches and opens abandoned drawers, Chris leans against the edge of a desk and checks his phone.

“Guess we gotta hire a receptionist, huh?” Sebastian finally asks, hopping up onto the desk opposite the one Chris is leaning against.

When Chris’s face betrays him and shows how confused he is, Sebastian laughs and tilts his head in the direction of the front desk.

“Oh, yeah,” Chris grins, shaking his head a little at his own lack of understanding. He glances down to where Sebastian’s arms are rested on his thighs - and he’s got nice arms, long and tanned - before catching himself, and snapping his gaze back up to Sebastian’s face. He nods, and adds an unsteady, “Guess so.”

~

To celebrate, Amy sets up a dinner type thing at Chris’s favorite restaurant.

Once the babysitter shows up - ten minutes late, like always - they walk the five blocks to the Italian place Amy booked a group table at for the night. Chris doesn’t know who exactly will show up, but to his understanding, they’ve invited Scott, Sebastian, Pete, and Chris’s long time developer, Paul.

Chris holds the door open for Amy, and waves over the top of her head when he spots Sebastian and Scott already at their table in the back.

“Hellooooo,” Scott greets, loudly. He also raises his glass of wine as Chris and Amy round in on the table.

Ignoring Scott’s dramatic flair, Amy tosses her jacket on the chair next to him, and frowns, “It’s too cold out there. It’s supposed to be September and it already feels like satan’s dick out there.”

“Alright, we gotta talk about this,” Scott replies seriously, as Chris laughs and shuffles around with the chairs. “Satan’s dick is hot, right? Like temperature wise? Right?”

As they settle into their conversation, Chris peels himself out of his jacket, too.

“Hey,” Sebastian smiles, grinning up at Chris as Chris tries to figure out what to do with his jacket.

Without thinking, Chris looks down and smiles back a, “Hey. What are you drinking? I think I’ll have one of those.”

Sebastian has already been here for however long it’s taken him to drink a half a glass of wine. While Chris is not sure how much time that is, minute wise, it’s been long enough for Sebastian to really spread himself out across his chair, and lose all of his outer garments.

That’s when Chris realizes he’s still holding his jacket, and quickly hangs it on top of Amy’s over the back of her chair.

Chris takes the seat between Sebastian and Amy, who is now deep in discussion with Scott about last night’s episode of The Bachelor.

“You looked at the menu yet?” Chris asks, voice low as he glances around to see if a waitress is within wine requesting distance. Out of habit, he also picks up the closest menu-looking thing.

With a confident shake of the head, Sebastian clocks Chris picking up the wrong menu, and reaches for the wine list instead.

“I was gonna wait for everyone else,” Sebastian explains, removing the paper specials menu from Chris’s hand, and supplementing the actual booze menu he was looking for.

A little intrigued, Sebastian flips the paper menu he stole from Chris over, and checks out tonight’s pasta deal.

“Good. You know I get menu anxiety,” Chris laughs, half-heartedly flipping through the wine list. “You know what, I don’t think I need this. I’m just gonna have what you’re having, that looks good enough to me.”

Sebastian smiles back, and tilts his head to the side a little.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a wine guy,” he says.

“Hey, I’m not all beer and bourbon, I swear,” Chris promises, stretching to set the wine menu back in the middle of the table. As he opens his mouth to add onto that thought, Paul and his girlfriend roll up to the table. Chris cuts himself off to exclaim, “Hey! Hey, man, how are you?”

Getting to his feet, Chris pulls Paul into a slappy hug before reaching to shake his girlfriend - Julia’s? - hand.

The two of them settle at the other side of the table, on Scott’s other side, as the waitress comes by again.

“I’ll just have what he’s having,” Chris says, pointing to Sebastian’s glass.

Beside Chris, Amy nods and smiles, “Oh, yeah! Same please.”

And just like that, the night is off to a good start.

~

Chris knew it before, but having everyone in one place cements how wonderfully they all work together.

Their group is exceptionally compatible, and the whole table cracks up into loud laughter at least three times that night. When the first round of wine disappears, they all get another, and then the food rolls out in two different rounds - first salad, and then pasta.

“My god, this looks good,” Sebastian announces, fork already in hand as he digs in.

It’s hard not to make a little noise of agreement - this is not Chris’s favorite Italian hole in the wall for no reason - before leaning forward, and twirling some pasta into his mouth. He also makes a valiant effort to not slob sauce all down the front of his shirt.

Beside him, Amy ducks out of the restaurant quickly to answer a call from the babysitter.

“You weren’t kidding when you said this was good,” Sebastian reviews, eyebrows knotted as he chews and thoughtfully looks at his plate, choosing his next bite.

Chris laughs, and grins over at Sebastian as he reaches for a piece of garlic bread from the middle of the table.

“I don’t lie!” he lies, forking a hefty amount of pasta onto his bread.

Snorting, Sebastian gives him a ‘sure’ look, and then leans forward to navigate his next bite.

Outside, Amy stands alone in the cold, with one arm crossed over her chest, and her back to the window as she tries to walk the babysitter through getting Peyton back into bed.

~

A few days later, Chris is playing with the kids.

That basically means he’s sitting on the living room floor while they half watch Beauty and the Beast, and half crawl all over him.

“Ow, watch daddy’s back,” he complains, leaning to the side and trying to get the bulk of Austin’s weight off his spine.

Behind him, Austin cackles with laughter, and smacks Chris in the shoulder again.

“Don’t hit daddy,” Peyton snaps, punching her brother.

It takes about five seconds for things to completely spiral out of control. Shortly after, both kids are sitting on opposite sides of the couch, frowning and grumpy, with their arms crossed over their chests. Peyton’s face is covered with crocodile tears, and Austin is nursing a potentially black eye.

They’re good kids. Chris loves his kids. They’re smart and funny as hell, and sometimes he thinks he has more in common with them than any of the adults he knows.

Other times he wants to fucking strangle them, or lock himself in the bathroom until they stop shouting.

By the time Amy gets home from yoga, things have calmed down again, leaving Chris spread out over the long piece of their L-shaped couch, with Peyton asleep on top of him, and Austin cuddled right into his side.

“Hey,” Amy greets, coming into the room.

When she realizes the kids are asleep, she stops in the middle of the floor with an ‘aw,’ kicks a toy out of her path, and brings her iPhone up to take a picture.

Chris manages to raise both his eyebrows, exhausted after watching both kids for two hours, and smile.

~

It’s pouring the next day, and Chris can’t get his key to work in the front door of the new office.

“Fuck!” he swears, jiggling the knob and kicking at the base of the door.

He’s soaked completely through, right down to his goddamn underwear. Wet jeans are up there on the “worst things in the world” list, so, ultimately, there’s no point in fighting with the door any longer. He might as well head home, change, and try again this afternoon.

Frowning, Chris tries to duck a little further under the overhang as he wiggles his phone out of his pocket.

They’re supposed to be interviewing a few people for the receptionist position, but he might be able to move a few things around.

Then he hears wet, soggy footsteps, and a cheerful, “Hey!”

“Huh,” Chris says stupidly, turning around.

There’s Sebastian, jogging down the street. He’s just as soaked as Chris is, except he’s holding a folded up newspaper over his head, like an old timey movie star.

Chris lets his phone drop to his hip, keys forgotten in the door, and watches, a little dumbfounded, as Sebastian crowds his way in, grimacing up at the grey skies as he shakes his soggy newspaper out.

“It was a hundred degrees yesterday, and now here we are in the Pacific Northwest,” he jokes, letting his newspaper flop between them. It slaps against the concrete between their shoes, as Sebastian looks at the key in the door, the phone in Chris’s hand, and asks, “What are we waiting for?”

Reeling back to life, Chris clears his throat, and then knots his eyebrows. He manages to speculate, “I think it’s jammed.”

Sebastian pats through his jacket pockets, and pulls out a key. Once Chris has removed his, Sebastian tries, and, surprise, it turns.

“Guess we should copy this one,” Sebastian muses, as they both shuffle through into the waiting room. “You got the bum key.”

Grimacing at the feeling of wet clothes, now also dripping all over the place, Chris agrees, “Looks like it. Thanks for saving me, man.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sebastian laughs, shaking his hair out. He pauses, hair all stuck up, and looks around to add, “I don’t think we have towels here.”

Pulling his t-shirt away from his stomach, Chris lets go and watches as it snaps back against his skin with a slap.

“Definitely not,” he agrees, walking a little bow-legged as he peels out of his jacket and hangs it up on the rack. “Just those old t-shirts.”

“Oh my god,” Sebastian starts laughing immediately. “We do have the t-shirts.”

Chris tugs his t-shirt away from his chest again, and laughs in surprise - a bit dumbfounded - as Sebastian walks over to the stack of cardboard boxes, still discarded and stored against the far back wall.

“Dude, come on,” Chris grins, as Sebastian, still cracking up, pulls two shirts out of the pile, and raises his eyebrows at Chris. Chris grimaces, and can’t help but laugh, “They say Wine Wednesday.”

Surprised, Sebastian’s mouth drops open as he flips one around to check out the design.

“It is Wednesday! Chris, this is destiny,” he laughs.

Considering his options, Chris looks down at what he’s got on - he’s so cold his nipples are rock hard - and then over at the two shirts Sebastian is still holding. He’s also got his best sales face on, too, eyebrows raised, eyes as big as the moon.

“Maybe we should reschedule the first interview,” Chris muses. He could theoretically be home and back in thirty minutes. He has no idea who these wine shirts were intended for, or why they were rejected, but he does know they aren’t boss attire.

That doesn’t stop Sebastian, though.

“This is a gift, Chris,” he grins, working himself out of his clothes.

Laughing, Chris watches, bewildered, and asks, “You’re serious?”

“Serious,” Sebastian promises, yanking the dry t-shirt down over the last of his wet skin. He jumps and claps once, landing with his legs a little askance, and both hands out in two thumbs up. “Who likes Wine Wednesday? This guy.”

Chris can’t help but crack up at that, covering his face with one hand as Sebastian puts on an extra happy face.

“Wow,” he finally settles on, unable to keep the grin off his face. Shaking his head, he gives Sebastian a little ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this’ look, and accepts the second shirt. “This is gonna be a little tight.”

Sebastian laughs at him, and says, “Your shirts aren’t that big either, pal.”

Smiling, Chris turns away and peels out of his shirt, letting it slap at his feet before he tugs the dry one on.

Still doesn’t fix his wet jeans, though.

~

The first girl is horrified; she barely manages to get through the interview without running for the door.

After her, they interview two more people, both of whom are nice, but neither of which they click with.

While they’re killing the hour between number three and four, Chris waits for the downpour to subside, and then makes a break for it. Ten minutes later he returns with sandwiches, coffee, and a family size bag of chips.

They’re both mostly dried now, fluffy haired and just a little damp around the seams.

When Chris gets back to the office, Sebastian is trying to hang out their clothes over the kitchen radiator.

“I hope ham and cheese is okay,” Chris says, setting the bag of food down on the counter first, and then the tray of coffee. When Sebastian looks over at him curiously, Chris adds, “I forgot to ask before I left.”

Sebastian smiles, and then turns back to where he’s trying to get Chris’s damp t-shirt to hang off a light fixture.

“That’s great, man, thanks,” he promises over his shoulder, taking a step back when it looks like the shirt is staying put.

They end up eating shoulder to shoulder at the kitchen counter. The entire office is still empty, with the exception of a few old wooden desks Chris will either sell on Craigslist, or give away for free. If he could get twenty bucks for them, it’d put a pack of beer in the fridge.

Chris grimaces when he bumps into a tomato slice mid-bite. He makes a face as he tugs them out and tosses them back into his wrapper.

“Hey!” Sebastian exclaims, immediately reaching for them. “That’s the best part!”

Still frowning, Chris flops his sandwich open, looking for any lingering gross stuff, and says, “The meat is the best part.”

“No way,” Sebastian argues, passionately adding Chris’s tomato slices to his own sandwich. “Tomato, mustard, mayo. That’s where it’s at.”

“You’re a condiment guy!” Chris accuses, one eyebrow arching up as he takes a fresh bite of tomato-free sandwich.

Sebastian shakes his head, and looks appreciatively at his sandwich before he bites into it and says, mouth full, “I’m a good taste guy.”

“Pfft,” Chris says back, bumping their shoulders together as they eat.

~

The fourth interview is a home run.

Elizabeth laughs when she first sees their matching wine shirts, and shakes their hands with a wide smile. She isn’t horrified that they have nowhere to sit, and she laughs at the first terrible joke Chris makes.

Most importantly, she’s okay waiting another month to actually start.

Once it becomes clear that she’s the girl for them, they give her a quick tour of the office. She makes fun of Sebastian’s rudimentary clothesline fashioned from kitchen fixtures, and agrees with Chris that tomatoes are the devil’s fruit.

“That’s why it’s a nightshade!” she exclaims, making Sebastian laugh. “Spooky!”

She’s personable, she’s funny, and she’s fucking nice. She’ll be the best receptionist, office assistant and front-facing employee that either of them could ask for at this point. Somehow, she brings an immediate warmth to the office, even though it’s still empty.

“Well, check that off the list,” Chris says, later that afternoon.

Shuffling his things together, Sebastian looks up from his folder of interview notes, and jokes, “That was some karma coming back after our rough start.”

Laughing, Chris waits as Sebastian gets his stuff, and then holds the front door open for him as they leave.

“We should meet up tomorrow,” Sebastian proposes, sticking the folder under his arm as he steps to the side and pats himself down for his cigarettes. “I know I have the deck, but I’d like to run through everything together before my meeting next week.”

Chris frowns at where he’s trying to get his key to work again. It doesn’t lock, just like it doesn’t unlock.

Without having to ask, Sebastian sticks his unlit cigarette in his mouth, and steps forward, worming his way in to use his own key.

“Thanks,” Chris says softly, stepping back. “I have time tomorrow afternoon.”

Sebastian lights his cigarette and nods, eyebrows knotting as he says, “There’s a locksmith about ten minutes away.”

“Mind walking a few blocks?” Chris asks.

“Not at all,” Sebastian says, before offering up his pack of cigarettes. “Want one?”

“I shouldn’t,” Chris sighs, tucking his hands in his jean pockets as they start down the street, side-stepping joggers with their mountaineer baby strollers, and businessmen walking a hundred miles an hour. “My kids, and - you know. I try not to unless I’m drinking.”

Sebastian puts the pack away immediately, and says, “I get it,” as he exhales.

Jesus, that smell. It’s the haze over every good memory Chris has of his early twenties. Just the breath of it that coasts between their moving bodies is enough to have Chris wanting it all over again.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, and sneaks a glance of Sebastian out of the corner of his eye.

Every time he brings the cigarette to his mouth, he sucks hard, cheeks hollowing out as the paper burns lower. Chris steals one look, and then another, and another.

“Tomorrow?” Chris asks suddenly, snapping back to the task at hand. “Once the kids are at school, it’s quiet. I have a home office, you know - the usual.”

Sebastian nods, distracted as he brushes some ash off of his chest, and says, “Yeah, that sounds great. I’ll swing by around noon.”

“Sure,” Chris nods, agreeing.

Sure.

~

Not a lot of people know that Chris plays the ukulele.

He picked it up in college, way before anyone thought it was cute, and kind of kept it up through the years - including that one ugly era where everyone just asked him to play Cups.

It’s one of his things, his little habits, that help him relax.

Tonight, he’s sitting outside, even though it’s a little too cold and wet to be sitting outside, thumbing through his own shitty rendition of a Weezer song.

He lets his mind drift as he plays - goddamn you half Japanese girls, do it to me every time - he’s not very good, really, but he thinks about his kids and the Italian food they ate the other night, and Elizabeth and Amy and Sebastian.

This afternoon felt surreal. It was like being thrown into the plot of a Wes Anderson movie - almost dreamlike, when Chris thinks back on it. Soaked to the bone, wearing clothes that weren’t his. Eating sandwiches under flags made of their wet shirts. He smiles a little, and ducks his head as he laughs.

He’s still wearing the wine shirt. Amy didn’t even ask when she saw it, which made it funnier.

Chris thinks about Sebastian in-between all of the little things, the food and the clothes and the day. He thinks about how funny the guy is, and he thinks about how grateful he is for whatever deity dropped Sebastian into his unassuming lap.

With Sebastian on his side, Chris, for one second, realizes that he feels like he could do anything.

“Weezer, huh?” Amy asks from behind him.

Chris startles. His fingers bumble on the strings as he jumps and blushes.

He feels like he’s been caught, even though that doesn’t make any sense.

Amy sits down on the same step, thigh to thigh, and smiles over at him warmly, a mug of tea held between both hands.

“I really like you, y’know,” she teases, leaning over to bump her head against his shoulder.

As she sits back up, still smiling at him, Chris, oh god - he feels like his face is flushed, his cheeks are hot - he smiles.

“Back at you, baby,” he murmurs, before clearing his throat and looking away.

He stares out at their dark backyard, heart thumping loudly in his chest, and tries to remember what line comes next.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are happening! Let me know if you're liking it so far!

Aside from Amy and the kids, this business has been Chris’s life for the last two years.

Even - clever name, his wife’s idea - is an app. It’s simple, too: it helps people with low income manage their money from paycheck to paycheck, and find more work when they need it. In Chris’s first - and only - year of business school, he couldn’t believe how much shit was being catered to those who could afford financial advisors.

The people who need to track their money down to the cent are the ones who don’t have a lot of it.

Flunking out of Accounting and Business Communications was easy. Once he clued into the fact he’d have to stand in front of thirty people and present four times in one semester, he was practically crippled with anxiety. And, after getting an inevitable zero on those projects, he withdrew, headed home, and sketched out the first iteration of what would become the app.

It was rudimentary. Simple. But, two years later, here he is, looking for investors to help make his dream a reality.

If Sebastian can give him that final push to get there, Chris will owe him so much more than he’ll ever be able to pay back.

~

This afternoon, Chris is in his home office, sitting and watching as Sebastian goes over the presentation.

He’s pretty sure his heart rate doesn’t drop below 120 the whole time.

“Jesus, Seb,” Chris breathes, feeling a little stunned as he watches Sebastian grin and shuffle through their deck. “I think you made me want to invest in it, too.”

Sebastian laughs, arching one eyebrow as he asks, “Yeah?” and sets the cards down in a little stack on Chris’s desk.

“You’re gonna kill it,” Chris promises, clapping his hands together. “Seriously. Wow.”

“Stop, you’re making me blush,” Sebastian teases, as there’s a knock on the door frame.

Chris looks back over one shoulder to see Amy standing there, amused and in her workout clothes.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt. The kids are watching TV downstairs,” she says, tilting her head forward as she pulls her hair up into a ponytail. “They’ve got snacks, and Peyton’s got the iPad.”

Nodding, Chris spins his chair around, and replies, “Great, thanks baby. You’re back for dinner?”

“Probably not,” she frowns, crossing the room to quickly smack Chris a kiss. She steps back and wipes her chapstick off his mouth to add, “I think we’re going to go for coffee, too. I left some cash for pizza on the counter.”

“Sure,” Chris nods, watching her go before he spins back around just in time to catch Sebastian giving her a smile and a wave.

As she heads back down the hallway, Chris sighs, and reaches for his laptop. He’s been trying to price out some shit they have to get upgraded at the office to meet ADA regulations, and it’s taking forever. He asked Scott to do it, too, but Scott scoffed in his face and told him it was well within his skill set.

“Have you heard anything back about the insurance yet?” Sebastian asks, chin propped up on one hand as he watches Chris scroll through the gigantic ADA Standards for Accessible Design document.

Chris snorts, and says, “Yeah right. Those insurance guys are useless.”

“I’m excited for the meeting,” Sebastian says a few minutes later, sounding thoughtful. “I think it’ll go good.”

Good is an understatement. Even here, under the vaulted ceilings of Chris’s home, Sebastian has made his product irresistible.

“You’re gonna do great, Seb,” Chris says honestly, raising his eyebrows sincerely. “Really, pal.”

“I dunno, the bar is pretty low,” Sebastian grins back. “As long as I don’t puke on their carpet, I think it’s a step in the right direction.”

Chris starts cracking up at that, grabbing at his boob as he rocks back in his chair and exclaims, “Oh, you’re a comedian now, huh? Here I thought you were just some sales guy!”

“Sales guy!” Sebastian exclaims, pretending to be insulted. “Sales guy, he says. Oh, don’t do that to me. That cuts deep.”

They grin at each other, laughter fading back down to comfortable silence as Sebastian drifts over to thumbing through the presentation deck.

Chris, on the other hand, sits there for a minute, quiet. He studies Sebastian as Sebastian reads a card over again and then smiles to himself, clearly thinking about something in particular.

“What?” Chris asks, stretching one foot out to kick at Sebastian’s chair a little.

Laughing, Sebastian spins back around and rolls an inch out of Chris’s reach, says, “Nothing.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that’s nothing,” Chris continues, folding his hands over his own stomach. “Tell me.”

Sebastian sneakily looks over at Chris, still smiling, and hesitates for a second before he admits, “This time last month I was pretty sure I was going to be in line filing for unemployment. That’s all.”

If Chris had a drink in him, he would tear up at that, without a doubt.

“Likewise,” he replies, gently, feeling a little silly about pressing Sebastian’s buttons without really knowing what’s underneath. Feeling a little warm, a little dopey with getting to know Sebastian better, Chris stretches his arms up, and leans back, still watching. After a moment of consideration, he breaks his stretch to laugh, “I think my doctor is going to send you a personal thanks, you know, being the sole reason he’ll no longer give himself carpal tunnel writing my xanax prescriptions.”

That makes Sebastian crack up. He immediately reaches for the deck and bounces up and out of his chair, Vanna White-ing the presentation cards as he holds them out to one side.

“We’re the Robin Hood of app development,” he announces, putting on a deep, silly voice. “While many start-ups give to the rich, we take from them, and give to the poor instead!”

“Don’t say that!” Chris laughs, leaning forward earnestly. “Say the opposite! We’re gonna help the rich get richer!”

“Ah yes,” Sebastian nods, rerouting, shuffling through the cards until he finds the one that says EVEN CHARGES USERS ONCE PER WEEK TO USE THE SERVICE. He straddles his legs out, balancing the card with one palm against his stomach, and uses the other to underline the words with flourish as he adds, “Money for you, money for me, us money now.”

Chris throws his head back cackling at that, one hand flopped uselessly on his stomach as Sebastian continues to present the card like it’s a letter on The Wheel of Fortune.

“You have no idea how close you are to my usual talking points,” Chris laughs through a groan, wiping his eyes first before he presses both palms to his face and cackles his favorite TV quote out from behind them, “Me a money needing a lot now!”

That makes Sebastian laugh. He ends his presentation and walks back over to Chris’s desk, a little smile on his face as he comes to stand at the end of it.

Chris watches, because he feels good when he’s looking at Sebastian. He watches Sebastian’s face, and then drops his gaze to watch Sebastian’s body. He watches as Sebastian’s hips relax, and his posture rolls forward, and his dick presses up against the edge of the desk.

“I promise it won’t be like that,” Sebastian says, suddenly looking up from the cards in his hands.

Surprised and caught staring, Chris blushes and clears his throat.

“Well. Whatever you’re gonna do, it’s gonna be a hell of a lot better than me,” he eventually manages to reply, scratching at the back of his red hot neck as he goes back to the ADA regulation walkthrough.

Sebastian grins again, and teases, “Hey, I won’t argue with you there, sweaty.”

“Hey!”

~

The kids last by themselves for another hour before they defect and come upstairs.

First it’s Peyton, and then Austin. They both vaguely remember Sebastian from the BBQ - at least enough to smile and warm up faster than they would a complete stranger.

“You wanna come downstairs and take a break?” Chris asks, standing up from his office chair with Peyton halfway over one shoulder. “Grab a beer, relax for a minute?”

Sebastian looks up from the form he was squinting at, and nods, “Sure, man. Won’t say no to that.”

Downstairs, Chris sets the kids up on Netflix again. He puts on the South Park movie, which they definitely aren’t allowed to watch, but will allow Chris to get an hour away from them undisturbed.

Once they’re sitting there, silent as they consume their forbidden material, Chris heads back into the kitchen where Sebastian is waiting.

He finds Sebastian at the island, sitting on a stool with his phone in one hand. Below him, Dodger is spread out on the tile floor, totally KO’ed with his face propped up against Sebastian’s bare foot.

Sebastian looks up and smiles as he sees Chris come back in.

“Nothin’ fancy,” Chris apologizes, snagging two Heineken out of the beer fridge. He’s not exactly an IPA or craft brew kinda guy, but he usually keeps a few on hand to offer to guests.

As he cracks the caps off, Sebastian pffts and says, “I’m not picky. Thanks, Chris.”

“No problem,” Chris replies, handing one over.

They each take a sip, and as Chris steps back, planning to lean against the counter opposite where Sebastian is sitting, he realizes that Sebastian is looking at something across the room. When Chris follows his eyeline, he gets a little embarrassed to discover Sebastian has clocked his ukulele, which is still right there where he set it down on the counter the other night.

“Your kids into music?” Sebastian asks, curious.

Chris blushes a little, sipping at his beer. After a swallow, he replies, “Ah, no. That’s all me.”

“No kidding!” Sebastian exclaims, actually seeming kind of into it. Usually when dudes find out Chris likes to spend his nights dinking around in the backyard on a ukulele, they make fun of him forever. Not that Chris blames them. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a musical guy.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Chris promises, pausing to laugh a little as a raucous round of HAHAHAHAs come from the living room, both of his kids riddled with power as they watch something they know they’re not supposed to. “But if you want to hear a Blink-182 or Third Eye Blind cover, I’m your guy.”

Sebastian smiles at him. It’s kind of a slanted, toothy smile. It’s different - Chris feels the back of his neck prickle up a little bit.

It’s almost… endeared.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sebastian tells him, breaking the spell. Chris watches, careful, as Sebastian pauses like he’s gonna say something else, but then changes his mind and asks, “Is it alright if I duck out for a smoke?”

Chris blinks. All he sees is the way Sebastian was looking at him for that one moment.

“Of course,” he stumbles, sticking a hand out to point Sebastian towards the back door. “There’s an ashtray on the deck.”

“Thanks,” Sebastian smiles, apologizing to the dog as he moves his foot and stands up.

Chris offers up another nervous smile, and watches as Sebastian goes outside. He shuts the french door quietly behind him, and Chris, fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck, looks at Sebastian through the glass. Sebastian is shuffling around out there, carefully pulling out a deck chair to sit on before he reaches to gingerly drag the glass ash tray across the table.

Clearing his throat, Chris shakes his head, and frowns a little at himself. He’s being an idiot. He fumbles around with some mail Amy left on the counter, and then heads into the living room to check on the kids.

That feels normal.

~

A half an hour beer break turns into Chris cooking up some hamburgers for dinner on the grill outside.

It’s getting to be a bit sharper out, that first round of crisp fall weather rolling in. It’s nippy, but still nice enough to hang around in as long as the sun is out.

Chris gets all of the rudimentary dinner items from the fridge, and leaves them out on the kitchen counter for later assembly. It’s just buns, cheese, mustard, lettuce, ketchup, tomatoes for Sebastian - nothing too fancy - and five patties for him to flip on the grill. He’d cook himself two, too, but he knows he’ll end up eating half of the kids anyway.

As he gets the barbeque going, he listens to the kids and Sebastian cracking each other up.

While Chris was in the kitchen getting all of the condiment stuff set out, Sebastian was hanging out with both the kids on the deck. What started as a game of “Look at this, Sebastian!” quickly became a wrestling match, both of Chris’s kids fired up and out for blood the minute they realized they had a new audience to win over.

Now, fifteen minutes later, the three of them are out on the grass.

Chris sets the grill lid down and brushes his hands together, turning just in time to catch Sebastian faking a fall, and landing face down in a pretty hard tangle of limbs. As he spreads himself out over the grass dramatically, he lets out a loud, “AAAAHHHHH!”

Saying the kids are both taken with Sebastian’s performance would be an understatement.

Riddled with destruction, they both laugh hysterically as Peyton belly flops across Sebastian’s back, and Austin pretends to stab his wooden sword through Sebastian’s head, which is… always something you want to see your kid doing.

A little hot in the cheeks, Chris laughs too, and watches as Sebastian rolls around, trying to snag Austin’s swinging weapon before it hits him.

“You’re going down!” Austin bellows. He gets cut off before he can say anything else though, screaming through laughter as Sebastian manages to snag one of his pant legs and yank him closer. In the process, Austin falls sideways and tumbles to the ground, landing with a thump and a laugh.

Both his kids really like wrestling. Chris doesn’t know how or why, but it sure makes great entertainment.

Sebastian roars as he starts climbing back to his feet, even though Peyton is still hanging off his back, both of her arms looped around his neck with her elbows on his shoulders. Once Austin realizes what’s going down, he screams and takes off running, laughing as Sebastian chases him across the yard.

All of a sudden Chris feels funny. He runs a hand through his hair, and turns back to the grill.

Even though he doesn’t need to, he opens the lid, and checks on their food.

~

When Amy gets home, the four of them are sitting around the kitchen table with their burgers.

“Mommy!” Peyton exclaims first, face covered in ketchup.

Chris didn’t even hear her come in. Startled, he turns towards the kitchen door, and manages through a mouthful of food, “Hey!”

“Hi guys,” Amy greets, smiling at everyone before she distractedly glances over at the kitchen counter. It’s subtle - the kids don’t notice, and Chris doubts that Sebastian does either - but she clocks the shrapnel Chris left out after making dinner. She walks up behind Austin, and bends over to press a kiss to the crown of his head. Nose still in his hair, she pulls back a little to look over at Chris and ask, “You cooked?”

The last time Chris cooked for Amy, Peyton wasn’t born yet and they were celebrating their wedding anniversary.

“Yeah, uh,” Chris fumbles, looking stupidly between his burger and his kids. “Just some burgers. You want me to throw you one on the grill?”

Amy shakes her head, and smiles a belated, “Hey,” to Sebastian as she steals one of Peyton’s chips.

“I’m alright,” she promises, brushing her fingers through Peyton’s knotted, post-fight hair. “I just had a salad.”

That is… not exactly an answer.

“How was yoga?” Chris asks, venturing a bit further.

“Really good,” she smiles automatically, already wandering over to the fridge.

Chris watches as Amy pulls the door open to snag a bottle of water, and takes a careful bite of his burger. He’s not sure what’s happening here. He chews, and watches her crack the lid off the bottle and take a sip. Before he has a chance to say anything else, the kids start to bicker over who gets the last Cheeto.

“Hey,” Chris warns, raising his eyebrows at them. “Be nice.”

Neither of his children care to be nice when they may not get what they want. Chris is about to reach over and break the Cheeto in half when Amy tilts her head towards the hallway, and says, “I’m just gonna grab a shower. I’m still pretty gross.”

Distracted from the kids, Chris nods, and watches her leave the room. She’s not sweaty. She looks like she always does - beautiful.

“AHHHH,” Peyton screams suddenly, when Austin, presumably, sticks the Cheeto in his mouth.

Chris jerks back to life, stunned out of the bubble he couldn’t manage to break by himself, and turns back to Austin just in time to catch him dancing in his seat with a full mouth and a smug look on his face.

When Chris looks further across the table, Sebastian is looking back, expression blank but careful.

“I…” Chris starts, but then just trails off. He doesn’t really know what to say. Amy isn’t usually like that. Dismissive. Weird.

Sebastian shakes his head a little, pulsing a smile, and levers the last bite of burger into his mouth.

~

The awkward vibe is difficult to shake, so Sebastian heads out shortly after.

Chris stacks all the dishes on the counter, leaves the kids in the living room, and takes the stairs two at a time until he’s walking into their bedroom. The shower is on in the attached bathroom, steam light, but beginning to curl out from behind the half closed doorway.

Peeling his shirt up over his head, Chris undoes his belt, kicks his pants off, and drops his watch on the dresser before heading into the bathroom and sliding past the shower curtain.

“Hey,” Chris says softly, brows already drawn. “You okay?”

Amy turns around, surprised, and smoothes one hand over her face to get rid of the excess water.

“Yeah,” she breathes, staring up into Chris’s eyes. “What’s up?”

Chris falters for a second.

“Nothing, uh,” he pauses - maybe it was just him, maybe he was the one making things weird - and squints, saying, “Just wanted to make sure nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened,” she smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes like normal. “I’m great.”

Chris nods, standing there dumbly, half in the water and half out.

He watches as his wife - his amazing, way out of his league wife - rinses her hair out and then slides past him, leaving him in the shower alone to snag her towel from the rack outside the curtain.

“I’ll get the kids ready for bed,” she says, offering him another smile over one shoulder as she steps out.

With a nod, Chris frowns and takes a step back, until he’s under the water properly.

He ends up standing in the shower stream for a long time. He lets the steam drift around him, but it doesn’t do much to clear his head.

~

The next day, Chris is due down at the office nice and early to let some furniture delivery guys in.

Amy is back to normal, as far as he can tell: she makes his coffee, gives him a kiss, and smiles as he stares back at her stupidly.

Story of his life.

~

Elizabeth starts in the office the following Monday.

“Wow,” she smiles, wandering in, a tray of coffee in one hand, and her bagged lunch in the other.

She’s surprised by the brand new desk they’ve got set up for her in the foyer, no more echoes of a failed t-shirt company’s past.

Chris walks her through everything - nothing too crazy, here’s your phone and there’s the computer, let me show you how to transfer someone, oops, nevermind, that’s the disconnect button - before leaving her to it, and wandering into the guts of the office, where Paul is setting up at one of the three work desks they bought.

“How’s it going?” Chris asks, smiling.

Paul looks up, sighs, and says, “So good, man.”

That makes Chris feel good. With a thumbs up, he continues on his way. He’s got a coffee machine to set up in the kitchen.

~

On Tuesday - the big day - Chris sits in the reception area, tapping his foot on the floor, and patting a rhythm against his knee.

“He’ll be fine,” Elizabeth intones, already onto all of his tricks, as she picks up the phone and rests it in the crook of her shoulder, asking, “I’m getting sushi, want some?”

He shakes his head and frowns.

Sebastian is meeting with a group of investors right now. This is it: do or die.

Either Sebastian course corrects the ship Chris has been incrementally sinking over the last few months, or he sinks it. Sebastian will either score their last round of funding, which is what will pay for this office and their new furniture and Elizabeth, or he won’t. This might be it, or they might have to do it again and again and again until they get it right.

But Chris is fine. He’s totally chill.

When Sebastian walks through the door an hour and a half later, Elizabeth makes an excited noise, and almost drops her chopsticks.

“Hey,” Chris blurts, jerkily standing up. His hands are sweaty. “How did it go?”

Sebastian grins, and says, “We got it.”

“We got it,” Chris repeats, making sure he heard correctly. “We got it?”

Just like that? No sweat, no puke, no nerves - other than Chris sitting at the office, fretting like a housewife?

Completely, honestly floored, Chris watches dumbly as Sebastian raises his eyebrows and nods. There’s a split second of absolutely nothing - no sound, no movement, no thought - before Chris launches at him with a huge hug, both arms going around Sebastian’s shoulders as Sebastian laughs, nose wrinkling up a little as he staggers backwards.

Sebastian hugs him back, kind of, one hand patting at Chris’s side as Elizabeth laughs at them from behind her desk.

“Fuck, I’m sorry - okay,” Chris babbles, managing to gather himself enough to hold Sebastian at arms length. “That wasn’t professional. Jesus.”

“Get it together, Chris,” Elizabeth teases, rolling far enough away to toss her sushi tray in her tiny garbage.

Definitely laughing at him, Sebastian catches Chris’s eye and says, “Come on, I’ll tell you all about it.”

They end up in the smaller conference room, just the two of them. Chris is jittery with excitement and nerves, unable to deal with himself as he gets settled in at the table and then folds his hands together, trying to play it cool.

“It really went over well,” Sebastian laughs, setting his work bag down on the table, and tossing the proposal folder onto the table in front of Chris. It lands against the wood with a slap. “Their feedback was positive, all good things, and they said they’d be in touch with Scott by tomorrow.”

Still a little shocked, Chris shakes his head, and runs both hands through his hair.

“I can’t believe it,” he laughs, staring at the boring looking folder sitting there in front of him: hard proof of Sebastian’s skill. “I’ve been dreaming about this for two years.”

Sebastian props himself against the table next to Chris’s chair with a smirk, and says, “Well, believe it, bud.”

“This calls for a celebratory drink,” Chris finally manages, flipping the folder open. It looks so official, real letterhead and everything.

When he looks up at Sebastian, Sebastian is already looking down at him.

“That sounds great,” Sebastian agrees, loosening his tie. “I gotta take a raincheck for tonight, but I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Got a hot date?” Chris asks, still distracted with the investment proposal.

Sebastian laughs and says, “Believe it or not, yeah. Not by choice, mind you, I owed Brie a favor.”

Wow. That’s a funny feeling. Chris blinks at the words on the paper in front of him, and steadily flips the page.

“Brie’s great,” Chris manages, because he doesn’t want to talk about Sebastian’s dating life today.

Sebastian smiles, still caught up in the adrenaline, and tosses his tie in the general direction of his bag.

“Yeah,” he agrees easily, before sighing, “Man, I was dying to tell you. I almost called you from the subway, but I figured it’d be better to do it in person.”

That makes Chris smile too.

“I was not exactly playing it cool,” he admits, leaning back again to look up at Sebastian’s face. “Elizabeth kicked me out twice.”

Sebastian laughs loud at that, tossing his head back happily.

With another sigh, he rubs the corner of his eye, and says, “She’s great.”

“Yeah,” Chris nods, still staring at Sebastian’s face. “She is.”

~

That night, Chris finds it difficult to relax.

He fucks around in the yard with the dog and the kids for a while, trying to tire all three of them out while Amy makes dinner. His mind wanders the whole time, as he chucks the ball for Dodger, and lifts Austin up into the air with a cackle. He ends up thinking about Sebastian’s plans for tonight, which is not only ridiculous, but also absolutely none of his business.

By the time Amy has dinner on the table, Chris is practically crackling with speculation.

“I forgot the green beans,” Amy tells them, walking back to the table with a bowl of said vegetable in one hand.

She smacks a big spoonful on everyone’s plate - even when Peyton says NO and tries to push her hand away - but pauses by Chris instead, ruffling her non-bowl holding fingers through his hair.

“You alright?” she asks, sounding concerned. “You’re quiet.”

Chris clears his throat and nods, and then looks up at Amy with a smile.

“I’m fine,” he says, eyes drifting closed as she bends down to press a kiss to the top of his head. He feels her necklace bump against the back of his neck, and smells her perfume, good and familiar and warm. “Just thinking.”

There’s a pause before Amy straightens up and wanders back over to the kitchen island. She stands there, shuffling things around, completely ignoring her own plate of hot food sitting at the other end of the table.

“Hey, didn’t you have your last investor meeting today?” she asks, surprised. “How did that go?”

Chris looks over at her, suddenly floored. He watches as she crunches a green bean between her back molars, and realizes that he forgot to tell his wife the most important thing to happen to him this year.

She watches him back, gaze steady, curious.

“Sebastian did great,” he answers honestly, shaking his head. “We got the numbers we needed.”

“”SEBASTIAN,” Austin yells, as Peyton laughs and shouts, “Sebby!”

Frowning, Chris automatically says, “Hey guys, no yelling,” and then, “Don’t feed that to the dog,” when he catches Peyton sneaking Dodger a couple of green beans.

“He likes them,” Peyton replies, reaching for another.

Chris rubs a hand over his face, and then stabs a piece of chicken with his fork. He’s not going to argue about the dog and food tonight.

“That’s great, baby,” Amy finally says, snapping her fingers at Dodger to get him out from under the table.

The dog goes back to his bed, unhappy about getting caught but too well trained to not listen.

She picks a green bean out of the serving bowl, and sticks it in her mouth as Chris scratches at the back of his ear, and turns back to his plate.

They don’t say much about it after that.

~

Later that night, both of the kids are asleep in bed, and Amy is having a bath upstairs.

That leaves Chris to his own devices. Generally, when Chris is left to his own devices, he can be found wearing flannel pyjama pants and watching the Patriots game he PVRed earlier.

He’s laying on the couch with a beer when his phone vibrates on the coffee table.

When he picks it up and sees it’s a text from Sebastian, he feels his body give him a little hit of adrenaline.

 _Total bust,_ it says. _Celebratory drinks would have been better._

Chris smiles, and then texts back, _Can’t win em all._

~

They do go out for celebratory drinks the next night, and then they grab lunch together the afternoon after, too.

In the space of about a month, Chris has gone from only spending time with his immediate family members, to seeing Sebastian upwards of ten hours a day.

“Anything from Scott yet?” Chris asks Friday morning, sticking his head into the reception area.

At her desk, Elizabeth looks up from where she’s fighting with her tape dispenser, and asks, “Want me to call him?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Chris smiles, with a happy smack to the doorframe on his way back.

Sebastian is in the kitchen trying to make coffee when Chris comes back around the corner from reception.

“Hey,” Sebastian greets automatically, before pressing the button on the coffee grinder.

It’s just after nine, but Sebastian looks like he just woke up. Chris smiles at him and leans against the counter with one hip, arms crossed over his chest as the coffee grinder loudly does its thing, and Sebastian shuffles around, gathering his mug and the sugar and a spoon.

They’re a real life office now, with dishes and cutlery and everything.

“Paul said we’re gonna have to hire a designer soon,” Chris says, when the coffee has been ground and Sebastian is pulling a second mug down from the cupboard.

Sebastian raises his eyebrows, surprised, and looks away from where he’s pouring the coffee into the french press.

“That’s great,” he says, before he pauses and asks, “Right?”

“It’s beyond great,” Chris replies, shuffling out of the way when Paul comes in looking for his cereal. “It’s phenomenal.”

He couldn’t have done this without Sebastian.

And even if he did, it wouldn’t have been the same.

“Here you go,” Sebastian says a minute later, handing Chris one of the two mugs.

Chris takes the coffee, and follows Sebastian back to their desks.

~

Later that afternoon, Chris is learning about wedding dresses when Scott finally shows up.

“What the hell are you two doing?” he asks, laughing when Chris blushes and rolls away from Elizabeth and her iPad.

On the other side of the room, Sebastian is sitting in one of their two waiting chairs, with a burrito in both hands and its guac covered wrapper balanced precariously in his lap.

A little distracted with where he’s going to bite next, Sebastian explains, “Chris is learning about sweetheart necklines.”

“He is a sweetheart neckline,” Scott replies instantly, grimacing when he realizes his joke didn’t really come out as snappy as intended. He thumps his briefcase down on the front counter and peers over, curiosity getting the better of him as he asks, “But for real, what are you actually doing?”

“I’m getting married in November,” Elizabeth smiles, twisting the iPad around so Scott can see the different styles she’s flipping through on some bridal site, “Chris is giving me a second opinion on my dress.”

Scott snorts and says, “Oh yeah, good idea - consult the guy who wears his entire wardrobe two sizes too small. Did you know he still wears the same belt he got in the ninth grade? Amy tried to burn it once, but it just appeared in his drawer again like a cursed porcelain doll.”

“Creepy!” Sebastian exclaims from across the room, mouth full of burrito.

Chris offers Scott a flat expression, and then asks, pointedly, “Did you bring the papers?”

“Did I bring the papers, he says. Of course I did!” Scott replies, rolling his eyes before he gives Chris a sneaky grin and adds, “Got a second proposition for you, too.”

Whatever that means, it seems bad already.

“Oh god,” Chris groans, abandoning his rolly chair to grab Scott by the shoulder and direct him away from Elizabeth and into the office, “Let’s go to the conference room.”

Sebastian crumples up his food wrapper and follows, still chewing and then laughing when he has to dodge Scott as Scott suddenly decides to half turn around and announce to Elizabeth, “Confidential shit.”

Already used to it, Elizabeth just laughs and gives all three of them a weird look before she goes back to her iPad and wedding dresses.

Chris won’t fall into that trap again. What started out with “is that an app or?...” quickly turned into him requesting to see blush tinted fabrics over eggshell.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s really coming together in here,” Scott reviews, eyebrows creeping up into his hairline as he checks out the open working area.

From behind his bumper sticker monitor, Paul offers up a quick wave.

They have been making pretty good progress, as far as cosmetic work goes. They got the carpets professionally cleaned, which cost way more than Chris fighting with a Rug Doctor for two days would have, but also looks twice as good.

Elizabeth helped them source a bunch of cool new lighting tracks with edison bulbs, too, and wow, that really makes Chris feel start-uppy and fancy.

Sebastian ducks into the kitchen to toss the remnants of his late lunch, and wash his hands. By the time Scott and Chris are settling in around the conference table, Sebastian rolls back in with three bottles of water - two regular, and one fizzy for himself.

“Alright,” Scott announces, spreading a handful of documents out across the table. “Everything is signed, sealed and delivered. I need two more signatures from each of you, and we’re done.”

“We can do that,” Chris promises, looking over at Sebastian. Sebastian smiles back, easy.

With a nod, Scott pulls out a couple of files, and shows them were to sign on the pages that are stickied.

Chris is settling back in his leather chair, clicking his pen and feeling awfully proud of himself, when Scott raises his eyebrows and says, “So, now that’s done. They really want you to come to this conference thing.”

“Conference thing?” Chris blurts, instantly nervous.

Oh, god, it’s stuffy in here. All of a sudden he can’t get a good breath in. Conferences mean networking and presentations and sweating through button down shirt after button down shirt. Is it really hot all of a sudden?

“Alright, calm down Barbara,” Scott scoffs, making Sebastian laugh. “Let me at least give you the pitch first.”

Tugging at the neck of his shirt, Chris leans back with a jerky nod, and looks over at Sebastian.

Sebastian grins and tells Scott to, “Do your worst.”

“It’s two days in Silicon Valley, next month. Next month? Maybe in a couple weeks, anyways, that’s beside the point,” Scott says, waving himself off. Chris cracks into the water bottle Sebastian kindly brought to him, and listens, wide-eyed, as Scott explains, “They’d like you to present the app to their stockholders. You know, a little push to invest.”

“Presentations?” Chris blurts, nervously fretting with the knee of his jeans, “No way. No way!”

“Hey,” Sebastian interrupts, voice soft but firm as he looks over at Chris and says, “We can’t just say no, this could be a big deal.”

Chris frowns but nods, and then Scott says, “Thank you! Finally a voice of reason around here.”

“Two days of presentations? Two days of presentations? Two days of presentations means I’m throwing up at least once,” Chris argues with Scott, fumbling the lid of his water bottle. “How am I supposed to be reasonable about that!”

Sebastian ignores Chris completely, and asks Scott, “What do they want us to talk about?”

Still making faces at Chris, Scott slides a paper across the table to Sebastian. From here, it looks like it’s just a general overview of the convention schedule.

“The backstory, a financial projection, you know - the little project that could,” Scott continues, watching Sebastian’s face as he skims over the paper. “You didn’t hear this from me, but I might say it seems like they’ll put more money on the table should the situation work out in their favor.”

Oh, god. Chris covers his face with both hands.

“But no pressure or anything,” he says into his palms.

Scott rolls his eyes, and turns his attention back to Sebastian.

“If all they’re asking for is an hour of our time, I don’t see how we can say no,” Sebastian says honestly, carefully sliding the paper over to Chris.

Chris accepts it, and leans forward to read the first few lines. Oh, god. Jeff Bezos is speaking.

“Exactly. So figure it out, and let me know,” Scott says, pointedly looking at Chris. “So I can let them know.”

Still a little itchy, Chris looks up from the paper, and nods.

~

Scott takes off right after, because he’s got a late afternoon meeting with one of his bigger clients.

Bigger than “working pro bono for your brother” anyway.

“I’ll do the talking, just like last time,” Sebastian promises, looking at Chris seriously. They haven’t moved from their spots at the conference table, except now Chris is wringing his empty water bottle between both hands like a dog anxious about being left alone. “We’ll nail it. We’re a team, right?”

Chris swallows tight, and nods, “Right.”

“And we can do this, right?”

“Right.”

“Alright,” Sebastian nods, finally giving him a smile. “I’ll text Scott and give the go-ahead.”

“Sure,” Chris manages, mouth jerking up into what could pass as a smile in return. As soon as Sebastian gets up to go grab his phone, Chris sighs, tilts back in his chair, and rests both hands on his head with a dramatic, yet succinct, “Fuck.”

~

It turns out, the convention is only three weeks away.

When Chris tells Amy about the invitation to speak, she seems surprised, but ends up grinning at him, both hands on his face as she tells him she knows he’ll be able to do it.

Chris is getting real tired of all these people telling him he’ll be able to grin and bear it when every piece of historical evidence proves otherwise. If sweating, puking and getting dizzy is considered knuckling through something, then Chris has been a professional speaker for years.

If saying he’ll be able to do it was as easy as actually getting it done, he would have been Oprah years ago.

“So we’ll work on it,” Sebastian says a week later, as they have their morning coffee in the kitchen. “Right?”

“Sure,” Chris sighs, staring forlornly down into the coffee Sebastian made.

At least Sebastian isn’t promising that Chris will just magically do well. It’s a nice change of pace.

Frowning, Chris glances over and looks at Sebastian’s profile. Sebastian is a smart guy. Chris is smart, too, but their strengths are very different. This presentation stuff is what Sebastian is really good at. And, you know, if he says that they’ll work on it, then maybe they really will.

“I’m not happy about this, you know,” Chris finally adds, grumpy.

Sebastian laughs at him, and gives his shoulder a little squeeze.

~

That night, Chris is fucking his wife when Sebastian pops into his head.

“Ugh,” he says out loud, rhythm faltering.

Underneath him, Amy’s eyebrows knot. She looks up, confused, and asks, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Chris breathes, trying to shake it off, trying to get back into it.

He loves sex with his wife. One time they fucked in the kitchen while the kids were asleep because they couldn’t wait to get back upstairs.

“C’mon,” she says, giving him a coy smile.

Chris smiles back automatically and then laughs at himself, trying to shake the visual off. Sebastian, staring back at him from the other side of the conference table, face open and soft and warm.

Sebastian, twisting his fingers around the lid of his water bottle, thumb wrapped tight around the neck.

Sebastian, laughing and tilting his head back, slanting a secret gaze over at Chris as shorthand for “I know” and “just let him talk.”

“Fuck,” Chris swears, and comes.

Below him, Amy looks surprised for a long moment, before she grins and pushes him back by the shoulder, climbing on top.

“Hello sailor,” she laughs, reaching up to steady herself with the headboard.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Chris finds it difficult to look Sebastian in the eye.

“I know you’re nervous about the conference,” Sebastian finally says, halfway through that day’s paperwork. Chris doesn’t remember there ever being so many things to sign. “But we’ll be fine, man. I promised, right?”

Caught off guard by Sebastian’s honesty, Chris nods, and offers up a tiny, unsure smile.

“If you say so,” he manages, a little hot in the chest when Sebastian smiles back in his direction.

Sebastian’s smile creeps into a grin when he sees Chris getting all red. He raises his eyebrows and says, “I say so. Aren’t you supposed to be into all that positive thinking stuff? Where are my ‘it gets better’ quotes?”

That makes Chris laugh, too. Then he groans and rubs both hands over his face as he says, “It doesn’t get better, Seb. It just gets worse.”

~

Their work day goes by fast.

All of a sudden it’s six at night, Elizabeth and Paul are long gone, and Chris and Sebastian have not yet had the chance to get any work done on their conference presentation.

“I don’t wanna burn the candle at both ends,” Sebastian sighs, packing his bag up, “But we could go grab some food. There’s an Indian restaurant by my place I’ve been wanting to try.”

Oh god, could Chris ever go for some food right now. Preferably several truckloads of it.

“Yeah,” he agrees, already pulling out his phone to text Amy. “That sounds great.”

Chris pauses, and stares at what he’s typed out so far: _Hey baby, me and Seb are_

“She’s real understanding, huh?” Sebastian asks, nodding to the phone held in Chris’s hands.

Startled, Chris looks up, eyebrows halfway up his forehead, to find Sebastian already looking back at him. Sebastian has no idea what the depth of Amy’s understanding is.

She’s not dumb. If she hasn’t figured Chris out already, she will soon.

“Yeah,” is what he says out loud, deleting a few words, and then quickly firing the rest of the text off.

_Hey baby, team is going out for drinks. Don’t wait up, I love you._

“That’s great,” Sebastian sighs, as he grabs his bag and gets to his feet. “I wish I had someone like that.”

Chris puts his phone away, and laughs, “You gotta stop letting Brie set you up on dates, then.”

“I don’t pick the right guys for myself, trust me,” Sebastian snorts. “Brie’s a welcome inspiration.”

Hitting the light over his desk, Chris looks over and smiles, “You keep saying that, man. Don’t leave me hanging.”

“My god,” Sebastian groans, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. Chris watches as he swallows, a little bit of a blush creeping out from the neck of his shirt as he tells the rafters, “My last serious relationship was with an actor.”

An actor, jeez.

“Mr. Hollywood,” Chris teases, even though he knows he probably shouldn’t.

Sebastian pulls himself upright, and frowns, “Not really.”

There’s a pause - mostly because Chris knows he shouldn’t - but he also can’t not ask, “What happened?”

“He was in the closet. I was not,” Sebastian replies immediately, mouth tight around the edges. He’s gone from poking fun at himself, to feeling the direct result of pushing on an old bruise. “We were together for three years, and I should have left him after six months. I didn’t even recognize myself by the end of it.”

That makes Chris frown. He doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like the idea of Sebastian sad, anywhere.

“Damn, man,” is what he says out loud, because he’s only ever been in one serious relationship, and it ended with a wedding.

Sebastian gives him more of a real smile this time, but then he shakes his head at himself, and runs a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, well. The best part is that he came out three months after we broke up, and has been happily engaged to his nineteen year old art student boyfriend since,” Sebastian says, bitterly, before he pauses to laugh, “Isn’t that a kick in the pants.”

“You’ll find someone,” Chris offers, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Sebastian follows him out of their immediate office area, and into the hallway towards reception.

“Yeah,” he sighs, sounding decidedly sour about it. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

~

They snag some takeout from the Indian restaurant, and head over to Sebastian’s three story walk up.

Chris still hasn’t been to Sebastian’s apartment, even though Sebastian has been in his house tons of times.

“Sorry about the mess,” he preemptively apologizes to Chris, switching the light on.

After following Sebastian into the apartment, Chris sets their bag of food - dangerously close to blowing its paper bag seams - down on the coffee table, and looks around.

It’s warm. Homey. Sebastian’s got a weird green vintage looking couch, and a low dark wooden coffee table covered in things: worn books, an ash tray, two old Nintendo controllers still connected to the grey and black console sat in front of the gigantic - GIGANTIC - television.

Chris smiles, he can’t help it, and looks over to where Sebastian is fussing around, flipping on lamps and throwing dirty clothes into the attached bedroom.

“I love it,” Chris says honestly, plopping down on the middle couch cushion.

Half joking, Sebastian scoffs, and says, “Yeah alright, Mr. Renovated Vintage Brownstone-in-Harlem.”

“Hey!” Chris laughs, leaning to the side so he can peel himself out of his jacket. “Believe it or not, that vintage brownstone was not my idea. My contribution is limited to mowing the four feet of grass in the backyard.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure it’s a real hardship,” Sebastian teases, and then smiles big when Chris pretends to be offended.

Whether Sebastian wants to believe it or not, it’s true. Chris isn’t even sure his name is on the deed; the mortgage comes directly out of Amy’s trust fund.

“Alright, Three Floor Walkup in Sugar Hill, get over here,” Chris demands shortly after, as he begins to unstack food containers from within the bag.

He sets two things to the side, trying to figure out what’s what, and laughs when his stomach rumbles.

God, is he ever hungry, and it smells so good.

Sebastian stands in front of the coffee table, and watches Chris unpack everything. After a minute, he says, “I’ll grab some plates.”

“Excellent call,” Chris nods, sitting back and rubbing his hands together.

Once Sebastian comes back with two plates and cutlery, Chris splits everything up. He puts Sebastian’s plate together first, and hands it off before he even thinks about his own.

“Thanks,” Sebastian, a little surprised, says, as he accepts the warm plate with a smile.

Chris makes a disjointed ‘mmm’ noise, and sucks the tikka masala sauce from the pad of his thumb.

They eat mostly in silence, because it’s too good to stop and talk about it. Sebastian sits in the little overstuffed armchair sitting arm-to-arm with the couch, knee bumping into the side of Chris’s thigh every time he shifts.

“That stuff is really good,” Sebastian reviews, pointing at one of the opened containers.

Chris goes for it immediately, reaching over and spinning it around so they can see the writing on the side. It’s messy, so Chris might be getting it wrong, but he thinks it says biryani.

Raising his eyebrows, he turns to Sebastian, and asks, “More?”

“Sure,” Sebastian nods, leaning forward with his plate, and watching as Chris plunks a spoon on. “Just a bit - that’s perfect.”

Once the food is gone, they both relax, hazy and a little zoned out.

Chris lets his eyes wander around the room, focusing and unfocusing on Sebastian’s belongings as he goes. A small vinyl collection propped up against the end of a table, a tiny potted plant that has honestly seen better days. A line of carefully framed photos along the length of a shelf that also has a short stack of DVDs sitting on it.

“Hey!” Chris smiles, as he zeroes in on a picture of semi-current looking Sebastian. In the photo, Sebastian is surrounded by a group of dudes who are all super athletic looking and very buff. “Are you on a sports team, or something? I love sports!”

When Sebastian figures out what picture Chris is talking about, he groans and tilts his head back into the cushions.

“Oh my god,” he laughs, closing his eyes. “This is so embarrassing.”

Chris is already up and halfway across the room.

“These dudes are beefcakes,” he teases, glancing over at Sebastian as he picks the frame up. He was wrong - the picture is not incredibly recent - but it’s no more than a couple years old at most. It was also definitely taken here in New York, because there’s the Brooklyn Bridge, beautiful and hazy, in the background.

When Chris turns around, frame loose in one hand, he realizes that Sebastian is embarrassed.

Chris has definitely never seen that face before.

“I used to act,” Sebastian finally admits, foot bouncing on his knee, mouth behind his knuckles. “That’s why I moved to New York.”

Grinning, Chris looks down at slightly younger Sebastian, and echoes, “Guys and Dolls.”

“What - I - you remember that?” Sebastian asks, surprised.

Chris sets the picture back down carefully, gently, and glances over at Sebastian with a ‘give me some credit’ look.

“First show you saw here, right?” he replies, one eyebrow raising on its own will.

“I… yeah,” Sebastian nods, looking at Chris curiously. “Never really got a chance at home, you know. First communism, and then Austria.”

Nodding, Chris slowly makes his way down the rest of the shelf. An older looking couple - either parents or grandparents, Chris isn’t sure, but definitely family - and then one of Brie, drunk and holding two martini umbrellas in front of her eyes.

Chris sticks his hands in his pockets so he doesn’t pick up another frame, and asks, “How old were you when you moved here?”

When Sebastian doesn’t immediately answer, Chris glances over to the couch. Sebastian is sitting there, quiet and watching him back.

“Too old to be an actor, but I tried anyway,” he finally replies, as Chris turns back to the shelf. A picture of what he assumes is baby Sebastian, if the sheer amount of hair and weird outfit is anything to go by. Behind him, Sebastian continues, “I ended up in business school, but I never stopped wanting to act. Those guys are part of a theatre group. Nothing serious, just local.”

Chris gravitates back to that first picture of Sebastian, the one that started the whole thing, and asks, “Why can’t it be serious?”

“Because nobody is going to hire some guy that didn’t even go to drama class,” Sebastian replies, flat.

Frowning, Chris takes a step away, hands still safely in his pockets, and nods back towards the frame as he says, “You looked happy there. Kind of a bummer you don’t have a secret sports team, though.”

“Ahh, keep dreaming, pal,” Sebastian finally grins. “I don’t play sports. Unless you’re interested in getting your ass kicked in some one-on-one basketball.”

“Oh, is that right?” Chris asks, photo now completely forgotten as he turns around and says, “I’ll take that.”

Back to bright eyes, Sebastian replies, “You’re on.”

~

Once they sit down to it, a good amount of presentation prep gets done.

Sebastian hangs out his living room window and smokes, taking notes on Chris’s iPad while Chris sits at the coffee table, hunched over his laptop and rattling on and on. Articulating his points with Sebastian as his only audience is much easier than doing the same thing in front of a thousand people.

By the time they’re done, it’s after midnight. Chris is dragging on his feet.

“See you Monday,” he yawns, patting Sebastian on the shoulder through the crack in the door as he leaves.

~

It turns out three weeks go by exceptionally fast when you’re counting down to something you don’t want to do.

One day Chris is sitting there, looking at the calendar and thinking there’s still enough time to bail, and the next, there’s Sebastian, pulling up in a cab outside his house.

“Hey,” Sebastian grins at him, face illuminated by the streetlights that haven’t yet turned off.

He hands over a cup of to-go coffee, and Chris trades their plane tickets in return.

Chris spent the whole night tossing and turning, too nervous to sleep. He’ll probably fall asleep on the plane regardless, but, just to be sure, he pops an ativan while they’re waiting to board.

Twenty minutes later, buckled into the window seat at Sebastian’s request, he nods off just as the sun is coming up.

~

When Chris wakes up again, he’s drooling.

Specifically, he is drooling on Sebastian’s shoulder.

It takes his sleepy brain a few seconds to put the puzzle pieces together. He smacks his lips, eyes still heavy as he blinks them open, and crosses his arms a little tighter, stretching his feet out in the footwell. Then he startles, realizing whose shoulder his head is tilted against, and sits up quickly, one hand wiping the remaining drool off his chin.

Sebastian is unaffected. He remains asleep, head tilted back against the seat, mouth hanging open.

He’s a snorer, too. Chris rubs his face again, and puts a little distance between their arms.

Jesus christ.

This ativan is making Chris cloudy. Clearing his throat, he settles back in his seat, takes a deep breath, and turns his head to look out the window. They’re over Montana, now, trapped on this thing with nowhere to go for another couple hours, at least.

Despite his better judgement, his eyes look to the side again, searching Sebastian out in his peripheral. They’ve never been in this kind of setting before, casual and dangerously near intimate. Sebastian is wearing sweatpants and sneakers, and Chris sees a lot of evidence that leads him to believe up close Sebastian would feel just as sleepy and warm as he looks.

Chris married his wife when he was twenty three. His feelings for her have never changed. He loved her then, and he loves her now.

He met Sebastian for the first time two months ago. Sixty days is a fraction of time compared to twelve years; it’s practically laughable. Chris has walked by millions of people since the day he met his wife. He has laughed with strangers, and shook hands with people he had never seen before nor since. Nobody ever made him look away from Amy. Nobody ever began to compare.

Sebastian might.

“Fuck,” Chris breathes, reaching up to ding for a flight attendant.

He needs a drink. He should have another pill. He wants to clear his head.

This is stupid, and he is stupid, and the thoughts that are beginning to creep into his mind terrify him.

“Can I get an orange juice, please?” he whispers, when the flight attendant crouches down at Sebastian’s thigh.

She smiles at him and walks away; Chris stands up to fumble his carry on out of the overhead bin.

“What’s up?” Sebastian asks groggily, feet shifting against the floor as Chris rests his bag on his knee and goes in up to his elbow.

Surprised, Chris bangs his head into the bottom of the overhead bin.

“Feeling a little claustrophobic,” he manages, getting the bottle open, and shakily tucking a pill underneath his tongue.

~

Chris has never been to San Francisco before. The cold, foggy air surprises him at first.

Rubbing at his face, still a little tired from the flight, Chris stares out at the grey skies from inside the airport, and waits for his luggage to come back around.

“I thought you liked the rain,” Sebastian teases, when he catches Chris frowning out at the weather.

He likes the rain, alright. Smiling, Chris shakes his head and replies, “I was expecting - you know. Sun, beach, celebrities.”

“You’re gonna have to go a bit further south for that, I’m afraid,” Sebastian laughs, as their luggage emerges from behind a plastic flap.

It takes them a full hour and a half to get the car rental figured out, and then make their way to their hotel. Chris drives, because Sebastian is a New Yorker through and through, and only got his license for identification purposes. Even with Sebastian having been in San Francisco a handful of times, it’s still a bitch to navigate the city, and Chris is sure he gets vertigo on a couple of the steeper streets.

The hotel Elizabeth booked them into is walking distance to the main tourist strip, which Chris secretly kinda likes.

They’re sharing one room, mostly because they’re paying for the whole thing out of pocket, and doing it this way is much cheaper. At the front desk of the hotel, Sebastian works his charms, and gets them upgraded. Now they have a room with two queens and a balcony overlooking the city, which is grey and unusual to Chris.

“I need a nap,” he yawns, flopping backwards onto his bed. “And then some food.”

Sebastian makes a noise of agreement, and hoists his luggage up onto the bed.

Halfway through unpacking, he looks over at Chris, dozing with his feet still on the floor, and asks, “Do you want me to hang anything of yours?”

“Uh…” Chris trails off, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “I only brought jeans. And a nice shirt.”

Sebastian laughs at him, and says, “Got it.”

As Chris settles back into the mattress, he falters, still watching Sebastian a little bit.

He swears he saw something flicker warm, almost sweet, in Sebastian’s expression.

~

Chris naps for an hour, and then quickly Skypes with Amy and the kids while Sebastian has a shower.

“You might wanna bring a jacket,” Sebastian recommends after, pointedly looking at Chris’s threadbare t-shirt before tugging a plain black hoodie up over his head.

Frowning, Chris digs deeper into his suitcase, and complains, “I packed for summer!”

~

That’s how he ends up with a baby pink hoodie that says SAN FRANCISCO on the chest in swooping, cursive letters.

Sebastian laughs at him the whole time, from coat hanger to receipt. Truthfully, Chris was planning to go with his usual navy blue or light grey, but once he saw Sebastian laugh like that, he couldn’t say no.

Hey, Chris is comfortable with his masculinity. And this shade of pink looks great with blue eyes.

After that, they set out in search of seafood. Chris has never been to the west coast before, but it’s just as pretty as it looks in the movies.

He doesn’t miss Amy at all.

They walk along the Embarcadero to Pier 39, where Chris buys a stuffed seal for Peyton, and Sebastian takes a picture of Chris with his arm hooked through a giant metal crab.

“That’s going in a frame,” Sebastian grins, looking down at his phone.

Laughing, Chris pops up onto his toes to peek over Sebastian’s shoulder. Squinting down at the screen, he asks, “Did I make the shelf?”

“Don’t push your luck, pal,” Sebastian jokes.

It takes them a few minutes to decide on a restaurant, mostly because Sebastian is looking for quality, and Chris is looking for quantity. They settle on one that serves lobster, but also has all you can eat oysters. This place has the condiments for each table in a Corona six-pack box, too.

He might have to float that one by Amy when he gets home.

By the time they’re done eating, Chris is practically sweating. He removes the plastic bib from around his neck and groans, way too full.

Their presentation is first thing tomorrow morning, officially less than twelve hours away. At this point, all Chris can hope for is that he doesn’t throw up seafood all over the stage.

“Gross,” Sebastian laughs, popping an after dinner mint while they wait around for the bill. “Come on, we’ll be fine.”

Yeah, Chris has told himself that one a time or two before.

“It’s the only thing I never got better at,” he frowns, looking off to the side. “Trust me, I’ve been trying.”

Sebastian sucks on his candy, and frowns back.

“I get that,” he says, after they spend a minute grimacing at each other. Chris rubs at his face, and then sits back to watch Sebastian’s hand on the table, fingers curling and uncurling, and then inching towards his. “I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to you tomorrow. Not in front of everyone, anyways.”

Chris watches Sebastian, waiting for a joke. When it doesn’t come, he raises his eyebrows.

“Thanks,” is all he can think to say at first. He’s feeling a little bit like Lady and the Tramp, now, with the red and white checkered table cloth and all. Sebastian’s relaxed hand curls up into a fist; Chris knots his eyebrows together, and adds, “I really - I really appreciate that, actually.”

Sebastian nods, and then can’t help but laugh as he says, “We could have some kind of incoming puke hand signal, though.”

“I’ll throw up the deuces,” Chris laughs, and then demonstrates and almost knocks his drink over.

That makes Sebastian crack up some more, one hand clutching his chest as Chris fumbles his glass back into the right spot, and then peeks over his shoulder to make sure the waitress didn’t catch him playing the fool. When Chris looks back to Sebastian, he laughs and shakes his head at himself, shoulders hunching in out of habit.

“Whatever happens,” Sebastian continues, as Chris settles back, trying not to do any further damage, “It doesn’t change anything. I won’t think less of you, and I know nobody else will, either.”

“I don’t know about that,” Chris manages, unsure of what else to say. “But thanks.”

The waitress comes back around with their bill before Sebastian can add anything else.

It’s a good thing, too. Chris doesn’t want to start crying in the middle of a seafood restaurant in San Francisco.

“Have a great time in the city, boys,” she smiles at them, setting the little receipt folder at the edge of their table.

Chris smiles back as Sebastian thanks her, and then, they both reach to pay.

“Hey, I don’t mind,” Chris tries, raising his eyebrows. “If it’s not staying down, I better get my money’s worth while I still can.”

Fingers steepled against the cheap plastic book, Sebastian puts on his most devastating grin, and says, “Let me.”

Now there’s a look Chris wouldn’t be able to say no to under slightly different circumstances.

“How about we split it,” he counters, trying to slide the receipt out a little, just so he can take a peek at the total. He doesn’t want Sebastian paying for the whole thing. After a minute of squinting at Chris’s face, clearly waiting for him to crack, Sebastian’s hand retreats. In return, Chris asks, “Good?”

“Sure,” Sebastian nods, suddenly agreeable as pie, as he leans back and lifts his hips up to get to his wallet.

Nodding back - that’s solved, then - Chris smiles and leans to the side, trying to get enough room to unwedge his own wallet. Just as he’s got it wiggled halfway out of his pocket, Sebastian clocks his exact moment of weakness. Chris watches, genuinely caught off guard, as Sebastian snatches their receipt and takes off towards the bar.

“Hey!” Chris exclaims - loudly - loud enough for half of the people in the restaurant to turn around and look.

When Sebastian gets to the waitress at the bar, he says something to her, and then she looks over Sebastian’s shoulder at Chris, and laughs.

Chris laughs, too. And then he covers his face with one hand, trying to hide the blush.

~

Back at the hotel, Sebastian is watching some shitty criminal justice show.

Chris’s kneejerk reaction is to make fun of him, which he does, but he also ends up watching the show, too. Powerpoint forgotten, Chris places the laptop to the side, with his phone screen down next to it.

“Who’s that guy?” he asks, jumping a little when a creepy looking dude starts picking locks.

Laid out on the other bed, Sebastian wiggles his bare toes, and replies, “I know as much as you do!”

It turns out that dude is the killer, which Chris really should have seen coming from a mile away. Once the episode is over, Sebastian sneaks his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, and heads out onto the balcony by himself.

Chris, sleepy and a little dumb about it, watches quietly as Sebastian slides the glass door closed. With Sebastian out of his reach, Chris rolls over onto his side, tugs the rough hotel sheets up around his chin, and lets his gaze follow Sebastian’s movements through the gauzy curtain.

Watching Sebastian is easy. It always has been. Chris feels no regret about doing it as he studies Sebastian’s posture, hunched over the metal railing, head bowed against the city and its stars. Chris blinks, slow, and wishes he were close enough to see the way the smoke curls out of Sebastian’s mouth, drifting along skin and stubble.

As it is, watching the smoke swirl into the air above Sebastian’s head is enough. Chris knows the slack on that rope will run out soon.

He takes a deep, steadying breath, and blinks.

Chris used to fuck men, and it was never a secret. Amy even thought it was a little bit hot, when Chris first admitted he was always good for sleeping with the guys, and dating the girls. When Chris looks at Sebastian’s form through the thin window covering, he feels that familiar brush of attraction for stubble and dick.

Jesus, though. He closes his eyes, and tries to get a fucking grip. Having a little crush is one thing - it’s understandable - but that’s where his feelings have to end. Chris can’t proceed into the flippy stomach and the warm face and the dizzying electricity.

He wouldn’t cheat on his wife, and he wouldn’t run the risk of ruining his business.

Not for some ass.

Chris hears Sebastian come back in before he feels the air blow through. Sebastian slides the door closed quietly, and even with his eyes closed, Chris can tell Sebastian is trying not to make too much noise.

The smell of smoke drifts back in with him, but Chris pretends to be asleep. He feels Sebastian linger around the foot of his bed for a long moment - that creeping, telltale sensation that makes the hairs on the nape of Chris’s neck stand up on end - but then Sebastian keeps moving. He shuts off the television and the lights before crawling back into his own bed with a sigh.

Chris lays there in the dark forever, listening to Sebastian’s body shifting against the sheets. It takes him a long time to settle.

When Chris opens his eyes, he’s surprised by how dark the room is, and how quickly his eyes adjust to it. Sebastian is facing away from him, blanket tugged up to his shoulders. Chris lays there for a long time, watching quietly, as Sebastian’s body moves, breathing in and out.

He wonders if Sebastian has that prickly, hair on the back of your neck stand up feeling, too.

~

“Daddy’s gotta go,” Amy announces, appearing behind the kids in a blurry, low bandwidth version of herself. She stoops down low, head between both of theirs, and smiles and waves at the screen. “Say bye!”

Both of the kids dutifully parrot, “Bye!”, and Amy blows him one last kiss before the call ends.

Chris, already jittery with pre-presentation nerves, closes his laptop a little bit harder than he meant to.

In the bathroom, Sebastian is getting ready. Out here, on the other side of the door, Chris is sitting in jeans, dress shoes, and a belt that doesn’t even match. His ‘fancy shirt’ - a polo that he’s owned for longer than he’s had kids - waits for him on the foot of his bed.

For now, he’s chosen to strategically sweat through yesterday's shirt.

“Don’t forget about the Uber,” Sebastian calls from the bathroom.

Chris nods to nobody in particular, and fidgets to the sound of water running. Once the taps turn off, Sebastian spritzes something - either cologne or hair product.

Not that Chris remembered to bring either.

After stretching to unplug his phone from the wall charger, Chris fumbles around in his apps, and requests a car.

He glances up and says, “Ten minutes,” just as Sebastian is walking out of the bathroom.

And Sebastian is - wow. Sebastian is dressed up nice, in a fancy blue suit so dark it’s almost black. He’s got a nice shirt, a cool tie, and shoes that both shine, and match his belt. Chris can feel himself staring, but it’s total visual overload - his brain is so used to reading Sebastian in jeans and a t-shirt, seeing him like this is the equivalent of hitting all cherries in a slot machine.

“Do I look okay?” Sebastian asks, arching a skeptical eyebrow at Chris’s stunned reception. “Am I too fancy?”

Chris shakes his head - his fucking mouth is dry - and blinks hard, trying to formulate a sentence.

Eventually, he comes up with, “No. You - uh. You look great.”

“Good,” Sebastian breathes, running a hand through his hair, shiny and pressed back nicely. He offers Chris a snort and a funny expression, and adds, “You looked shell shocked for a minute there.”

“Haha, yeah,” Chris manages, getting to his feet and jerkily making his way over to his fresh shirt. “I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t be,” Sebastian says, clearly missing the sudden rush of blood to Chris’s head. “But remember that it’s okay if you are.”

Chris stands right there, and strips out of his shirt. It’s easy, mechanical: the shitty, sweaty one goes up over his head, and the nice, fresh one that he took right out of the drawer before leaving goes back on. As he adjusts the buttons sitting in the hollow of his throat, he turns back around, fingers nervously tugging at the fabric.

When Chris catches the look on Sebastian’s face, he could swear he feels his gut flop right out of his body.

He sees it, right there between them, hit the floor and pop in an explosion of coffee and continental breakfast.

Now who’s shell shocked, Chris wants to say.

“We should go down,” Chris blurts instead, before trying to correct himself with a, “I mean - downstairs. To the lobby. The car.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian nods, immediately. He looks away from Chris’s chest. “Right.”

~

Once they get to the conference center, it’s go-go-go.

Sebastian is the one who checks them in, gets their laminated passes and their schedule. He laughs with the girls, all rail thin and dressed in black, sitting behind the counter. Chris stands a few feet away, already sweating, tugging at his shirt and shifting from foot to foot as he watches the back of Sebastian’s head.

“Here we go,” Sebastian announces, handing the laminate with Chris’s name over.

Chris’s hands are shaking as he gets the lanyard up and around his head.

From there, Sebastian gets them from one side of the conference center to the other. Chris doesn’t even get a chance to breathe until they’re backstage, and he hears the auditorium speakers boom, “Creators of Even, Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan!”

“You got this,” Sebastian murmurs to him, stepping in close.

Dizzy with panic, Chris nods. He’s so nervous his brain is having trouble recording what’s happening around him: the only thing he’s able to latch onto is the smell of Sebastian’s cologne. It sticks to him in the same way rain sticks to concrete after a storm.

He manages a staggered, “Yeah,” and then they’re being walked to the edge of the stage by somebody wearing an earpiece.

Chris feels his entire life flash before his eyes. His hands are shaking so badly, he’s sure that the people in the front row can see it. They probably just think that he’s an imposter in this gigantic business snowglobe. This never gets better - the day Chris dies will be easier to navigate than the feeling of all these people looking at him.

Clearing his throat, Chris looks at their mark on the ground, and then over at Sebastian.

Sebastian is staring out into the lights, at the audience, with a bright, carefree smile on his face. Chris has never seen someone react to attention like a flower seeking the sun. He feels bowled over, physically struck at the way Sebastian looks out here, standing right beside him as he smiles and waves, patiently waiting for their applause to taper off.

The presentation is over before Chris realizes it. Forty minutes, gone. Just like that.

By the time they’re wrapping up with a little impromptu Q&A, Chris is laughing, and his palms are no longer sticky with sweat. He even manages to say a couple things that make the audience laugh.

Sebastian leaves a stack of pamphlets at the edge of the stage, and then tucks his mic underneath his arm and starts a round of applause himself.

If Chris could use one word to describe the experience, it would be: baffling.

“You did great!” Sebastian exclaims, as they exit off the stage and into the back hallway.

Still a little shaky with adrenaline, Chris runs a hand through his hair, and then grabs at Sebastian’s arm.

“That was incredible,” he says, letting go as Sebastian catches someone’s eye and gives them a quick smile and a nod, like it’s nothing. Shaking his head, Chris pats Sebastian’s shoulder, and babbles, “Jesus, Seb. I didn’t know you could do that!”

Sebastian grins at him, like charming a thousand unimpressed suits is nothing at all. Then he throws an arm up around Chris’s shoulders.

“We should network a little,” he says, mouth so close to Chris’s ear, it makes his stomach flip. “Let’s celebrate.”

~

They make the rounds inside the conference center, from the stage to the vendor marketplace.

There are aisles and aisles of people, too many for Chris to remember the names of. He collects business cards like they’re puzzle pieces to a bigger picture, and repeats the same one line joke over and over.

Sebastian charms everyone with a smile and a handshake. With Sebastian doing most of the heavy lifting, Chris relaxes a bit.

The two of them are good together: a complimentary team.

By the time they get out of the conference center, it’s seven at night, and Chris has talked to more people in one day than he has since ham fisting his way through two semesters of business school.

“I’m ready for a drink,” Sebastian laughs, loosening his tie with one hand, and pulling out his cigarettes with the other.

Chris bounces down the steps behind him, unable to disagree with such a fantastic suggestion.

He pushes off calling Amy until later, too. He wants to bask in Sebastian’s sunlight, undisturbed, for just a while longer.

~

“Some lady told me we have chemistry,” Sebastian laughs, glancing up from his menu.

They’re at a little hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant, discovered just a fifteen minute walk away from the conference center. For Chris, it was love at first sight, lit almost entirely with colored Christmas lights, and papered from wall to wall with old Corona ads and Sharpie messages.

It’s intimate; the kind of place you might go on a first date.

“Oh yeah?” Chris laughs, looking up from the beer list. “What else did she say?”

“This and that,” Sebastian grins back. “Guess we’re destined for some kind of variety show. Sonny and Cher, Donny and Marie…”

That really tickles Chris. He grabs at his chest and lets his head drop forward, unable to do anything but laugh.

“Just a couple of guys!” he finally manages, “Destined to do a little primetime soft shoe and harmonization.”

Sebastian cracks up at that, and teases back, “You can be on ukulele, and I’ll be the eye candy.”

“Hey!” Chris exclaims immediately, pretending to be offended but also genuinely a little offended. “I got muscles!”

“I don’t know,” Sebastian replies, looking thoughtful as he glances at one of Chris’s arms, and then the other. “You’re a little skinny.”

“Listen, pal,” Chris says, laughing. “I will flex right now. I’ll bust through these seams!”

With a shrug, Sebastian goes back to his menu and offers a polite, “Maybe later.”

“I see what’s happening,” Chris laughs, pushing Sebastian’s menu almost out of his hands. “I get it.”

Sebastian finally cracks up, unable to hold his poker face any longer. He falls back against his seat, and tries to protect his menu from Chris’s flapping hands.

“You’re a smart guy,” Sebastian laughs, evading one more hand before Chris gives in and settles back with a smile on his face.

They quiet down when another couple takes a seat in the booth behind them. Chris already knows what he wants tonight - booze and a burrito - so he lets his gaze wander instead. Sebastian is still studying the menu, eyebrows knotted as he tries to decide on what he wants. The little candle sat on the table between them throws a little light on Sebastian’s hands, knuckles lit up with gold as he reads.

It makes Chris feel reckless and stupid. He remembers what it feels like to notice the little things about someone you’re desperate to touch.

He hasn’t had that feeling since the day he met Amy; nobody else ever compared to her.

Sebastian does. Sebastian lights that little fire in the pit of Chris’s stomach. Sebastian makes him laugh.

There are the things Sebastian doesn’t have in common with Amy, too. Sebastian makes Chris want to do things he’s never done before. Chris can’t believe he stood in front of a thousand old people in suits, and actually cracked a joke that got a laugh. That was a direct result of the things Sebastian brings out in him.

Sebastian, who is always full of sunshine, and always with the ability to network with anyone, let a little bit of that magic rub off on Chris.

“Do you know what you want?” Sebastian asks suddenly, glancing up and over his menu.

He catches Chris staring at him. For the first time, Chris doesn’t bother pretending he wasn’t.

“Yeah,” he swallows, tight. Then he clears his throat, and snaps his attention down to the menu in his hands. “The uh, the burrito…”

“Might have a little…” Sebastian starts, before trailing off.

When Chris looks up, he’s smiling softly, with his gaze locked in on Chris’s face. Chris stares back, completely caught off guard with the affection he sees there.

“Huh?” he asks, dumbly.

Sebastian nods towards Chris’s hands, and says, “You might have a little problem reading that.”

Chris looks down, dumbfounded. He’s been pretending to read from a menu that is clearly upside down.

He blushes, physically unable to stop the red flush creeping up his throat, and fumbles the menu to get it back the right way around.

“Yeah,” he nods, trying to play it cool. “I knew that.”

~

On the flight back home, Chris offers up the window seat first.

Sebastian promptly falls asleep, and Chris sits, one foot out in the aisle, playing games on his phone.

It’s a little terrifying, but this time, it isn’t the claustrophobia making him nervous.

Chris is a simple guy. He loves his wife and his kids. But these last couple of days - in this little universe that has included only he and Sebastian - something has changed. Chris knows it, and he thinks Sebastian does, too.

In-between loading screens, Chris sneaks a look over at Sebastian beside him. He looks at the shine of Sebastian’s fancy watch, strap wrapped around that bony, tanned wrist. He looks at Sebastian’s forearm, and his elbow, and the way his t-shirt sleeve is a little too snug around his bicep.

It feels like Chris is staring into the sun. It feels dangerous. It feels like it could backfire at any moment, but still, he does it anyways.

He lets his gaze wander across Sebastian’s chest, from his arm to his throat, and the little bit of skin between where Sebastian’s chain rests against his neck and where his t-shirt starts. Chris thinks it would be warm there, a good place to tuck his face into and hide.

His heart is suddenly beating so loud, he’s sure the woman in the aisle next to them can hear it.

“Yeah,” he sighs, tilting his head back against the seat, game entirely forgotten. He closes his eyes, swallows tight, and murmurs, “Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all your kind feedback so far!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has left a comment or a kudos! I don't always get the chance to reply to every comment, but I appreciate every one and I'm really happy you guys are liking this.

Halloween rolls around so much faster than Chris thought it would.

It feels like summer was just a few days ago, but now here he is, stealing another handful of candy from Elizabeth’s desk.

“Hey!” she exclaims, catching him red-handed as she comes back around the corner, fresh coffee in one hand.

Chris makes an ‘oh shit!’ face, but ultimately takes the risk and doubles back to get an extra handful, anyways. He puts a little pep in his step, too, just because she got dangerously close to smacking the candy from his hand and to the ground last time.

“That’s for visitors!” Elizabeth calls to his retreating back.

Practically tripping over himself to get back to safety, Chris replies, “We don’t get visitors!”

Back in the belly of the office, Chris drops off a couple candy bars at Paul’s empty desk - they’ve got a back and forth strategy going on in regards to stealing from Elizabeth’s stash - and then continues through to the other side of the open floor, where he and Sebastian have set up desks across from one another.

Sebastian’s been working on a new pitch for the last two weeks, essentially since they got back from San Francisco.

Patron Saint of Whiteboards, Sebastian stands in front of theirs with both hands in his hair, hips so relaxed his dick is practically touching the pen ledge.

Chris shuffles in, sits down at his desk, kicks both feet up, and twists open a piece of candy.

“This is how conspiracy theorists are born,” he finally announces, mid chew. 

There’s really no getting past the sheer volume of lines, arrows, and word clouds Sebastian has going on over their ten feet of wall. Sebastian laughs at the dig, and then takes a step forward to underline FACEBOOK CONTEST twice.

“Did you get more candy?” Sebastian asks, sparing Chris a glance over his shoulder.

Did Chris get candy. What is he, new?

“Hell yeah I did!” he exclaims, pushing away from his desk. Both feet land on the floor with a thud as he leans into a proper sitting position, and spreads his score out so Sebastian can see.

Sebastian caps his pen and sticks it behind one ear before he walks over and starts laughing at Chris.

“She’s gonna kill you,” he cackles, stealing a piece from the middle of the pile.

Chris pffts, then balls his candy wrapper up, and basketball tosses it into the comedically small waste basket on the other side of his desk.

He and Seb have already had three different debates about the novelty hoop sitting on the rim. For now, it stays.

“We could get decorations,” Chris finally replies, which is neither here nor there. Sebastian makes a vague noise of agreement, and reaches into his mouth to unstick something from a molar. Chris raises his eyebrows and adds, “Halloween is on Monday.”

“Halloween on a Monday,” Sebastian scoffs, shaking his head and going back for another bar. This is why Chris has to steal so much: he’s providing for two people. At least Paul hits him back every once in a while. “Who parties when Halloween is on a Monday?”

Grinning, Chris spins a little to and fro in his chair, and says, “I don’t know about you, but I’m planning to get wild.”

“Oh yeah?” Sebastian asks, one eyebrow arching, the corner of his mouth picking up into a little smirk.

“Believe that, pal,” Chris nods, trying to maintain some kind of poker face. It’s not his strongest skill. “Kids go trick or treating at six. You know what happens at eight? Maybe some pizza. Maybe some candy.”

“Wowwwww,” Sebastian replies, putting on his best ‘how cool is that’ vocal fry. He also happens to put a cute look on his face, too, before he leans over Chris’s desk, and says, “Better watch out,” with a poke to the belly, “You might get fat.”

Laughing, Chris clenches his abs, just so Sebastian gets the best experience, and sighs, “We’d have to let out the seams on my variety show wardrobe, that’s for sure.”

“We could squeeze you into something,” Sebastian teases, a little distracted as his white board pulls him back in.

Chris sits there, chewing and watching, thinking and looking, as Sebastian uncaps his marker, and gets back to work.

~

“Hey!” Amy yells from the kitchen. “You forgot your crown!”

Peyton is, of course, a princess. She’s been a princess every year since she was six months old, when they packed each one of her fat baby limbs into a princess outfit that was absolutely not made for fat baby limbs.

Every year, Chris tries other things. A witch. A doctor. Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas.

No. No, daddy. Daddy, that’s so stupid.

It has to be a princess. And, this year, specifically, a ‘Majestic Mermaid,’ which is apparently a princess who is also a mermaid but is not The Little Mermaid.

Chris sighs, and tries to put the Donatello mask back on Austin’s face. It doesn’t fit quite right - Austin’s head is too big or something - so he keeps over adjusting it, and accidentally poking himself in the eye.

“Buddy, if you just…” Chris tries, making a face as Austin’s hand flaps up to adjust the eye hole positions, and he clumsily smacks himself in the face again. Chris frowns, and asks, “Do you want me to draw the mask on?”

“No!” Austin yells, looking a little cross-eyed as he valiantly tries to adjust the thing himself.

Chris pushes himself back up from his knees and sighs, “Alright,” just as Peyton comes back into the front hallway with her crown - made out of glittery seaweed, OBVIOUSLY - planted firmly upon her head.

“Alright, we’re good,” Amy announces, flipping the kitchen light off behind them.

She’s kinda-sorta dressed as Harley Quinn, just the tights and the pigtails. Last year Chris went for a lame attempt at some kind of Beetlejuice thing, but in the end, he only wore the suit jacket, so everyone just thought he was Robin Thicke from the year he boned Miley Cyrus on-stage.

Memories.

Getting out the door is both a project and a whirlwind, but they’re wandering down the street in a reasonable amount of time, with Austin ahead of them, and Peyton holding hands with Chris.

It’s picturesque. It’s nice. There are crunchy leaves to walk through.

It’s everything it should be, but Chris’s mind is elsewhere the entire night.

~

“Ahh, oh my god! They’re so cute,” Elizabeth exclaims, laughing as Chris scrolls to the next picture of Peyton, still in her mermaid costume, but now accessorized with Donatello’s mask and bo-staff.

With a smile, Chris thumbs through the last couple quickly.

Amy will put everything up on Facebook, anyway - and with way cuter captions than Chris’s repeat, “Oh, this one is good,” narration.

“You guys want kids?” Chris asks, putting his phone away.

Phone in pocket, he bounces back onto his tiptoes, and reaches up, trying to tug down one of the few Halloween garlands he stapled up last week.

From her desk, Elizabeth makes a ‘meh’ noise, and then says, “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Adam’s not really that interested, and right now the only goal we have is to get through the wedding.”

“Oh god yeah, wedding planning,” Chris sighs, yanking on a twisty orange garland until the tape finally breaks away from the wall. “How’s that going?”

Elizabeth makes a face and says, “Slow and expensive.”

“Well,” Chris shrugs, looking over at her and crumpling the garland in both hands, “If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

~

“Ohhhhhh!” Sebastian laughs, a little out of breath as he crosses Chris up and takes off with the basketball.

Chris wants to say something cool, like “Not in this house!” or “Try it again, bitch!” but he’s concentrating really, really hard on winning this, which is making it really, really hard to show off.

He manages to keep up the cool exterior until he rolls around Sebastian’s side and gets the ball back.

“Oh, he’s on fire!” Chris exclaims, eyebrows knotting as he glances down at the ball, and then up at the net. “He lines up, he shoots, he - hey!”

Cracking up, Sebastian, now with ball in possession, dribbles it back towards the other hoop, effectively leaving Chris in the middle of the court, barehanded and talking a bad game.

Nothing new there.

They’re in East Harlem on a Saturday, and the sun is shining bright despite it being early November. Chris would be cold if he weren’t sweating his ass off. As it stands, sweats and a hoodie are enough to keep the bite out.

Their game goes on for another half an hour, and ends with Chris getting his ass beat, thoroughly. Thoroughly, thoroughly.

By the end, Sebastien is taking dumb trick shots, and laughing hysterically every time Chris hits rim.

“Hey, I was going easy,” Chris lies afterwards, as they both lean against the edge of a stone wall, sipping water and breathing heavy. He goes to arch an eyebrow in Sebastian’s direction, but then ends up blinking a bunch of salt away when sweat drips into one eye. “I didn’t wanna kick your ass too hard.”

“Oh yeah,” Sebastian teases, making it real obvious he doesn’t believe a word Chris is saying. Chris is about to open his mouth and respond when Sebastian leans close, bridge of his nose wrinkled up, and adds, “I’m sure, pal.”

It takes the wind out of Chris’s sails real fast. He feels his stomach flip, suddenly breathless and brain dead at the look on Sebastian’s face.

“I’m not your pal,” he manages, finally, laughing and elbowing Sebastian away. “Go find yourself a new friend.”

Sebastian grins back, easy as pie, and sticks a cigarette between his teeth.

“I got one,” he replies, elbowing Chris back a little while he digs for his lighter. “One’s all I need.”

Wiping at his sweaty eye, Chris laughs and teases, “Who’s that?”

Chris doesn’t even know what he’s saying, sometimes. All he knows is that he wants to keep talking; he likes this back and forth game they have of joking and teasing and making Chris blush. He can’t help himself from watching Sebastian light his cigarette, either, lips pulling at the filter until the end glows hot and burns paper.

His mouth is right there. Close enough to imagine things Chris has no business thinking about.

Sebastian watches back, long enough for Chris to get uncomfortable with the attention, and then smiles. Just like that, the tension between them is gone, and Sebastian elbows him a little, before pointing right across the court.

“Gonna go work for that guy next,” Sebastian tells him, and Chris laughs, startled, when he realizes who Sebastian is pointing at. Some guy, probably not being paid enough to have to do so, is stuffed into a bodybuilder costume and trying to direct attention towards a tanning place. “Bet he’d treat me right.”

Suddenly Chris is not sure if Sebastian is talking about ethics or muscles.

“You’d come back,” he says anyway.

Sneaky, Sebastian eyes him a little, and then asks, “Oh yeah? What makes you say that?”

“Who else would play one-on-one with a cheater?” Chris replies, and then, for good measure, pinches the half-smoked cigarette out of Sebastian’s hand.

Chris laughs and leans away, tipping his head back, taking a drag, and almost falling into the shrubbery behind them as Sebastian reaches after his cigarette.

“Oh, so I’m a cheater now! I see, I see what he does - he goes easy, but only if you’re cheating,” Sebastian laughs, knocking ash all over Chris’s hips as he wrangles the cigarette back. Chris grins, leaning forward and gently blowing smoke into Sebastian’s face, until Sebastian shoves him by the arm and asks, “Was that worth it?”

“Yeah,” Chris smiles, sneaker heels knocking back against the short stone wall they’re sitting on. “You know, it was.”

~

He’s not sure how it feels for Elizabeth, but as far as Chris is concerned, her wedding comes way too quickly.

Here they are, already at the end of November, with the holidays right around the corner and a brand new year soon after that.

“Hey, sitter’s downstairs,” Amy smiles, poking her head back into their bedroom.

Chris looks over his shoulder, and, with a smile and a nod, tries to finish tying his tie.

“I’ll be one sec,” he promises to his reflection, but Amy is already walking towards him. She looks nice - she looks beautiful, Chris, fucking beautiful, your gorgeous wife - in a navy colored dress, smart and expensive and perfectly fit to her yoga beat body.

With heels on, she doesn’t have to push up onto her toes to help him. She just wraps her arms around Chris’s shoulders from behind, pale, delicate hands spidering across his chest, and gently tugs both ends of Chris’s tie out of his fumbling hands.

Amy bought him this tie last Christmas. It’s the same one he wore when he was on stage with Sebastian in San Francisco.

She smiles over his shoulder when they catch eyes in their reflection.

“There we go,” she says, gently rubbing his back as she steps away. “You nervous or something?”

Nervous? Why would Chris be nervous. He’s a stone in the sand.

You know, rock solid and smooth, ready to hang out with the small group of people he’s spent almost every day with for the past two months. Why would he be nervous about that. It’ll be business as usual, to smile at Sebastian, and catch the way his eyes light up when he laughs at Chris’s jokes.

He’s going to touch Sebastian’s shoulder and wonder how his stubble would feel scratching down his neck, and he’s going to do it all in the presence of his wife.

What could be so nerve wracking about that?

“Not at all,” he lies, easy as pie. “Just excited for Elizabeth.”

Amy turns him around, and then smacks a kiss to his chin and checks her phone in the same motion.

“We should get going,” she says, already clacking back towards the bedroom door. “The Uber’s almost here.”

~

The reception is at a really cool brewery in Manhattan. Chris has never been here before, but the building is huge and open, built up with gigantic wooden beams and tons of industrial steel and glass.

It kinda looks like the wildest dreams version of what their office might look like in a few years.

He and Amy check their jackets and head into the main area, where the party is already in full swing.

“I’m going to get some drinks,” Amy decides immediately, nodding over to the open bar. “Beer?”

Chris nods back - beer’s fine, it doesn’t matter, whatever works - and tucks his hands in his suit pockets. 

The party is already in full swing, so he rotates from side to side a little, trying to figure out who else he knows. They didn’t go to the ceremony, but Chris is kinda happy about that - he always cries at weddings, and the last thing he needs is for Sebastian and everyone else to see him sob like a baby at Elizabeth’s handwritten vows.

“Hey man,” Paul greets, surprising Chris. His girlfriend is standing behind him - and oh god, Chris doesn’t remember her name - but she’s already caught in a smiley conversation with someone else. “We just got here, too.”

“Oh man, hey,” Chris smiles, accepting Paul’s fist bump. “It’s nice to see a familiar face.”

They stand around and shoot the shit for a while, nothing serious - the weather, the business, the video game Paul has been playing that Chris has never heard of - and them Amy comes back with Chris’s beer. After a quick hello, they part ways to hit up the buffet.

“I wanna dance later,” Amy says off-handedly, as they breeze by the real food to grab a couple of desserts each. It’s kind of their wedding tradition, not including their own.

Chris makes a pained face, and stacks three pastries on one plate. “Oh god, baby, don’t make me.”

She offers him a smile - a flirty smile, Chris realizes belatedly - and then heads over to where their table is, over on the other side of the room. Chris takes his time, sipping on his beer, and handpicking another two desserts.

Once he’s all stocked up, he quickly swings by the head table to wink and wave at Elizabeth.

Wow, Chris feels his breath catch when he sees her. She looks gorgeous, and Chris immediately recognizes her dress from the day she taught him the difference between a princess and bohemian cut.

When she spots him, she grins big, and then waves, making a vague, “I’ll catch up with you guys later, promise!” face. Chris juggles his drink and his desserts, and gives her the best thumbs up he’s capable of, before turning to follow after his rogue wife.

He finds Amy sitting at a table with Sebastian, two people Chris doesn’t know, and Paul’s girlfriend, who Chris still can’t remember the name of.

The little card with his name on it is directly between Amy and Sebastian’s.

“Hey pal,” Chris greets, touching Sebastian’s shoulder as he awkwardly bumbles into his chair. “How’s it going?”

Sebastian’s hair is styled nice again, just like it was for the conference. Chris practically goes light-headed at the smell, at the sudden sense memory of being so close: on a plane, in a hotel room, on a stage, in a restaurant booth.

“Hey,” Sebastian replies automatically, smiling a little even though he’s chewing. He nods at Chris’s two separate dessert plates, and says, “Amy was telling me about your cake racket.”

“Woah woah woah, it’s not a racket!” Chris exclaims, frowning over at Amy. “It’s tradition!”

She’s in the middle of a conversation with Paul’s girlfriend, but she takes the time to laugh at him anyway.

“You’re missing out, man,” Sebastian tisks, eyebrows raising.

Chris takes a quick inventory of Sebastian’s haul: a dinner plate stacked high with fancy looking food, and two double rum and cokes in highball glasses.

“Double fisting?” he asks curiously, breaking a cookie in two. Before he can say anything dumb, he sticks half in his mouth.

Without missing a beat, Sebastian shakes his head. He’s got a serious look on his face as he reaches for his drink.

“Had a date,” he explains, not looking in Chris’s direction as he takes two long sips of rum and coke. His voice is tight, muscles tense from swallowing, when he adds, “He bailed. Now I have two drinks.”

Oh. Chris’s gut plummets, and hits somewhere below his knees like a rock sinking into the ocean.

“Gotcha,” he manages, clearing his throat. He looks Sebastian over one more time - and Sebastian looks fine, good, better than fine, great - but he’s definitely already tipsy. His eyes are a bit red around the edges, and baggy underneath. “You okay?”

Sebastian finally looks over at him, and Chris feels that rock ricochet, whipping up all of his feelings from the sand.

It breaks his heart, a little bit, to see Sebastian like this. It’s not obvious - Chris might not even notice, if they hadn’t spent the last couple of months attached at the hips - but he does. He also clocks the way Sebastian’s gaze flickers just past him, to where Amy is still within earshot.

The whole thing takes a second, maybe less. Chris still notices.

Sebastian, on the other hand, puts a smile on, and presses through it.

“Peachy,” he says, lying through his teeth.

Chris nods, because what else can he say, and goes back to his dessert.

They don’t say anything else about it, but Chris is no longer thinking about the wedding, or his wife sitting right beside him.

He’s thinking about Sebastian, and how he’d like to kick the shit out of whoever it was that made him look so sad.

~

The rest of the reception is beautiful.

Chris meets both of Elizabeth’s parents, and her brand new husband. He meets her best friend, her sister, her nieces and nephews, and her grandmother on her mother’s side. He has a few drinks, and, in-between sitting with Amy at their table, and chatting up Elizabeth’s extended family, Chris watches Sebastian.

Heartbreak or not, Sebastian has been doing the same rounds as Chris. They’ve been on opposite sides of the room all night, but even from this far away, Chris can see how Sebastian charms every person he meets.

After slipping out of the social fold, Chris returns to their table with a fresh beer. Amy’s purse is still sitting on her chair, so she couldn’t have gone far.

Instead of looking for her, Chris settles back in his chair, and, a little drunk, watches Sebastian mingle.

He’s attractive, entirely Chris’s type. The people he dated before Amy had been similar, too: always intelligent, always sarcastic, always quick and witty and smart as a whip. Chris had always been attracted to blonde girls, but when it came to the guys, he liked them tall, dark, and handsome.

Sebastian also has a really great butt.

 _Just like Amy,_ the part of his brain that isn’t drunk says. Your wife.

Clearing his throat, Chris shakes his head, and tries to pull himself together. He looks for something new to stare at - where the fuck is Amy - but no matter what he does, his gaze always ends back on Sebastian.

Sebastian is drunk - drunker than Chris, for sure - but he isn’t getting himself into trouble. It’s the opposite, actually, with his tie loose around his throat, and his grin bright and big and blinding. He bends down to talk eye-to-eye with the flower girl, and takes a selfie with Elizabeth’s dog, who also acted as the ring bearer.

It’s too late when Chris realizes he’s been smiling, fond.

The chair beside him jerks quickly, sharply, against the floor, and he fumbles, balance thrown off from where he’d had his arm propped up along the back.

“Hey baby,” Chris manages to bumble out, flushing red as he turns his attention away from Sebastian and to his wife instead.

She looks at him - it’s forever and nothing, it takes place in the flash of a second, the glint of a coin found on the ground, so fast that Chris has to run to catch up to her - but she doesn’t react. The temporary house of cards she’s hiding her face behind does not shake in the wind; she does nothing to show him he was caught staring.

“Hey,” she replies, reaching for her purse to put her phone away. “Kids are fine, just called the sitter.”

“Oh, great,” Chris says, stupidly, nodding. His eyes want to go back to where Sebastian is.

Amy offers him a shit eating smile - a yeah, it is, isn’t it - and reaches for her drink.

~

Things get worse from there.

The groom, Elizabeth's sister, and both the bridesmaid and the groomsman of honor have already done their speeches.

Elizabeth is the last to speak, and, so far, her speech has been beautiful.

“You all mean so much to me - I really don’t have the words to explain it,” she reiterates quietly, mouth a little too close to the mic. “I have never known a better group of people, and I am so happy you could all be here to celebrate with us tonight.”

“I’m not going to make this very long, but I just, I just wanna give a shout out,” she continues, and yep, there’s that cold, clammy feeling. Chris swallows against the sudden nervousness he feels as Elizabeth turns around and looks in their direction, squinting through the crowd. “I was given such an opportunity when I met these two people, and honestly, you guys, I’ve never seen a better example of what good teamwork looks like. Where are you, Chris, Sebastian?”

Chris’s heart begins to thump uncomfortably hard in his chest as the spotlight shifts around, searching through the crowd until it clumsily settles on their table.

At his left, Sebastian, drunk and tired, and, at his right, Amy, cool and collected, yet stiff as a fucking board at the sudden declaration of love.

“In an exceptionally short amount of time, you two have taught me that complete strangers can meet for the first time and just click,” she continues, earnestly holding the mic with both hands. “I have never seen a better example of teamwork - sorry, mom and dad, but you’re divorced - and, if I can treat those around me the way that you two treat each other, I know I’ll be making the world a better place. I love you both, I’m so glad you’re here, and I’ll see you at the office on Monday!”

At that, she lets out a little whoo!, and the crowd breaks into laughter as she nervously hands the mic back to her husband.

Chris can’t move his eyes away from where they’re locked on the table in front of theirs. He forces himself to swallow, heart still going wild, and, out of the peripheral of his eye, watches as Amy unfreezes, and reaches for her wine glass.

She doesn’t put it back down against the table for a very, very long time.

~

When Elizabeth’s sister comes over to talk to Amy - apparently they know each other already, small fucking world - Chris finally breaks his chrysalis of shame, and turns around, intending to say something to Sebastian.

He didn’t know Elizabeth was going to do that. He didn’t know he would feel so ashamed.

It doesn’t matter, though. Sebastian must get up the second he sees Chris shift.

Chris watches Sebastian’s back muscles shift under his nice dress shirt as he makes his way back to the bar.

~

Sebastian doesn’t come back for a long time, so Chris, drunk and nervous, asks Amy to dance.

The smile she gives him in return makes his heart trip. It’s bright and white and lovely, and one of the many reasons Chris fell head over heels in love with her a thousand years ago. Things don’t seem as scary when she looks at him like this, with that beautiful, soft expression on her face.

It’s so much better than the curious, sidelong things she’s been trying to hide since the night Chris made Sebastian dinner.

He holds her hand as they start towards the dance floor, and then he pulls her close.

This is familiar. This is something Chris knows how to do. They haven’t been having sex a lot - or at all, really - between the business and the travelling, and the stress of all the little things in-between. It’s weird, it’s a slump, it’s the funhouse mirror of how they used to be.

Chris slides his hands down to her hips as her arms come up to rest around his shoulders. He smiles down at her again, unable to stop himself this time. His wife. His beautiful wife, who puts up with so much, yet would still do anything he asked.

She leans in, laying her head gently on his shoulder, and follows him as they sway back and forth to the music. Chris closes his eyes, too.

They drift around the dance floor, aimless but together, and for one minute - one long, entire lifetime of a minute - Chris wonders if it could go back to this. If it could be just the two of them again, without any of these intrusive thoughts that make Chris imagine how it would feel to touch Sebastian, to kiss and hold and love him just like this.

When Chris opens his eyes, his heart kicks back. His answer is sitting there, sad and alone and back at their table.

Sebastian is watching him, too.

Chris stares back, unable to look away. He turns his wife so he can maintain the eye contact he has with Sebastian for longer, just one moment longer. Sebastian throws back whatever’s in the bottom of his glass - it isn’t a sip, it’s a life preserver of a gulp - and, as the song winds on around them - dream a little dream of me - Chris feels his mouth dry out.

He is connected to Sebastian by a string, and it tugs a little sharper with every step he takes towards the other side of the room.

Whatever happened tonight, to Sebastian, has hit him like a brick to the face. His eyes are brighter than anything Chris has ever seen, stars and galaxies included. He’s been crying again, but he’s trying not to now, and the resulting unshed tears make his eyes as shiny as new glass.

“I love you,” Amy whispers in Chris’s ear. “Sometimes I don’t feel like I say it enough.”

Swallowing hard, Chris closes his eyes tight, and dips his nose into the side of his wife’s neck.

“I love you, too,” he replies, but all he sees is that image of Sebastian - booze soaked and broken, but still watching Chris.

~

It takes him a very long time to fall asleep that night.

Chris rolls onto his side, like he always does, and settles into the feeling of Amy tucking in against his back.

It’s familiar. It’s right. It’s what home is supposed to feel like.

By the time Chris gives up on falling asleep, it’s past four in the morning, and Amy is snoring behind him. Chris reaches for his phone, grimacing against the initial blast of bright blue light.

He thumbs open his Messages app, and thinks about texting Sebastian, but he has no idea what he would say.

~

Monday dawns, and Chris feels like a zombie.

Their wedding present to Elizabeth was a week of paid vacation, so Chris is the first person to roll in. He disarms the security system in the dark, and then stands behind Elizabeth’s desk, cluelessly looking at the phone. The little light is definitely blinking red with a voicemail notification, but Chris doesn’t really know what to do about it.

He’ll leave that for Sebastian.

After shuffling through to his desk, Chris settles in, and gets down to it. Paul shows up just after 9, and Sebastian closer to 11.

Chris realizes Sebastian has arrived when he hears Paul ask, “You okay, man?”

“Great,” comes Sebastian’s rough sounding reply. Chris can’t see him from this angle, but he tries. “Just caught a cold.”

Paul, though not convinced, replies, “Sucks, man. I hear it’s going around.”

“Don’t get too close,” Sebastian laughs, tiredly making his way over to where he and Chris’s desks are.

Chris is chewing at the side of his thumbnail and one sentence into an email reply when Sebastian walks between their desks.

He looks up as Sebastian gives him a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Chris blurts back, unable to stop himself. He thinks about all of the aborted texts he thought about sending.

Sebastian looks hungover. Even still, he’s one of the most beautiful people Chris has ever seen.

“You okay?” Sebastian asks, raising his eyebrows at Chris as he sets his bag down.

Is Chris okay?

He licks his lips nervously.

“Sure,” he nods. “I’m great.”

~

Chris lied.

He knows that if he didn’t have a wife and children, he would have pined - stupidly - for Sebastian all weekend.

Instead, he played legos with Austin, and sat through a tea party at Peyton’s insistence. He kissed his wife, and he did the dishes without her asking, and he watched football on Sunday night by himself. He thought about Sebastian constantly, and just barely kept himself from starting some kind of half baked text conversation.

 _You can talk to him Monday,_ Chris promised himself, over and over again. _Monday._

Now Monday is here - he is halfway through Monday, in fact - and he has no idea how to start the conversation.

With Elizabeth out of the office, the place seems empty: a bag of bones without its heart. It does work out to Chris’s benefit, though, because when Paul retrieves his lunch to eat at his desk, Chris identifies an opportunity.

Sebastian is walking down the hall when Chris sneaks up, snags him by the elbow, and steers the two of them into the empty conference room.

“Hey - what?” Sebastian asks, confused.

In Chris’s chest, his heart begins to beat so fast it borders on uncomfortable. He can feel the weight of it all of a sudden, the way it squeezes, trying to warn him that this will be painful - that this is a bad idea.

“Sorry,” Chris apologizes, making sure the door is closed - firmly - behind them. “I wanted to talk to you in private.”

Usually, Sebastian has a good poker face. Right now, the betrayal written in his expression tells Chris he’s already figured it out.

“Everything alright?” Sebastian asks anyways, standing beside the table and chairs.

“Yeah,” Chris lies. He feels himself frowning. “I need to talk to you about the wedding.”

The way Sebastian’s face suddenly changes thumps against Chris’s chest like a punch. The haunted look in Sebastian’s eyes makes Chris understand, immediately, why he was driven to the bottle.

If Chris saw that expression looking back at himself in the mirror, he wouldn’t know what else to do, either.

“No,” Sebastian tells him, with a careful shake of the head. “I won’t do this with you.”

“Sebastian,” Chris pleads.

He doesn’t know what he expected Sebastian to say, but he thought he would get further than this.

“Listen, I don’t… I have it under control,” Sebastian says, voice perfectly even. He raises his eyebrows, turns his mouth up in the grimace of a close mouthed smile, and adds, “You don’t have to worry about it.”

The ‘you stay in your lane, and I’ll stay in mine’ is implied. What Sebastian doesn’t understand is that there are no lanes anymore. There was a car crash miles back, and Chris still hasn’t gotten himself back on the road.

“Please hear me out,” Chris murmurs, voice already beginning to prick with frustration. “I’m bad at pretending.”

Sebastian’s nostrils flare as he stares at Chris, and then counters, “I’m not.”

This is worse than anger. This is worse than denial. This is a show of ambivalence, and it makes Chris feel stupid. He takes a deep breath, and studies Sebastian’s face, looking for something - anything - but there’s nothing there. It’s been removed already, taken to a secret location away from Chris’s prying eyes.

“You were drinking all weekend,” Chris says, gently. It’s an accusation but he doesn’t want it to hurt. “You still smell like bourbon.”

Sebastian frowns at him, and says, “It’s a hobby.”

“So is poking my nose into where it doesn’t belong,” Chris snaps back, unthinking and frustrated. It gets the emotional response he wanted: Sebastian’s face turns stony and sad. Sighing, Chris softens his expression, pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger, and manages, “Please don’t make me say it.”

He’s going to get hurt. He knows this will hurt. 

When Sebastian looks back at him, it’s with the same blank expression - the opposite of everything Chris saw at the wedding.

If Sebastian is going to force his hand, Chris is happy to be the one who folds.

“I have romantic feelings for you,” he says.

“My god,” Sebastian groans, rolling his lips into his mouth - a nervous tic. “Here we go.”

“I’m sorry,” Chris snaps. The last time he confessed his love for someone, they eloped a few weeks later. “Do married men profess their feelings for you often?”

Shaking his head, Sebastian rubs both hands over his face, rough with himself.

“This is a mistake,” he says under his breath, and then, to Chris, “I’m not going to be the one who goes to bat for you.”

For the first time, Sebastian gives Chris enough to see where he’s coming from. Chris manages a glimpse through the crack in the door, and sees what Sebastian does for the very first time: the nights spent sneaking around, the kissing and the cheating and the falling asleep by himself when Chris goes back to his wife and his warm bed.

“I don’t want you to,” Chris replies, not knowing what else to say. “Seb, what? It’s not… it’s not like that.”

Sebastian studies him, nervous now, mouth twisting to the side as he studies Chris’s face, looking for something.

“You’re having a midlife crisis,” he finally tries, one more item in a laundry list of reasons for them not to pursue this.

“No,” Chris says firmly, shaking his head. “No, nope. It’s not.”

They’ve come to an impasse. Chris finds himself not knowing what else to say as they stand there, watching each other, every moment between the one they met and right now a gigantic question mark hanging over the field of landmines they’ve created.

“Chris, I can’t do this,” Sebastian finally says, quietly now. “I’m not going to be that guy for you.”

Like maybe he’s been here before.

He leaves, and Chris doesn’t stop him this time. Instead, he takes a step back, sagging against the conference table.

“Fuck,” he sighs, leaning forward, and resting his head in his hands.


	8. Chapter 8

Everyone knows this is Chris’s favorite time of the year.

He’s got a little pep in his step, despite how things ended after Elizabeth’s wedding.

It’s been busy, with the holidays and that ice cold crush that always comes before them. He and Sebastian haven’t talked much since that conversation in the conference room; Chris is still cleaning up the fallout from that. Aside from business matters and meaningless small talk, he’s barely seen the guy.

The fact Sebastian seems to be treating the whole thing like a post-mortem stings a bit.

That aside, there are holiday specials on TV and red cups at Starbucks, both of which ease Chris’s soul. Amy ends up doing all of the shopping, and writing his name on their greeting cards. The only exception is his parents, which he signs dutifully, for no reason other than they’d know if it wasn’t his writing.

She puts up the tree in the living room, and decorates the front hall with fresh boughs and tiny, twinkly Christmas lights.

All Chris has to do is replace the burnt out bulbs hanging from the gutters.

~

Today is December 10th, the date of the Even holiday party.

After much debate, they’ve gone with hosting it at the office. Elizabeth has arranged for a couple kegs from the brewery down the street, and catering through a company Chris knows they can afford. The first day back after Thanksgiving, Chris helped her decorate the kitchen with tinsel, streamers, and a gigantic black Christmas tree.

“I thought I was buying the silver one,” she said, sadly, the day they cracked open the box to set it up.

Sebastian thought it was so funny, he refused to return it.

That had been the first and last time Chris saw Sebastian smile like that since their game of one on one.

So, tonight, everyone is in on the black tree joke except for the spouses. Chris catches Amy’s curious gaze as they make their way down the hall, and says, “Don’t worry about it.”

Elizabeth is already in the kitchen, handing out cups and setting up the last of the cookie exchange table.

“You’re too good to us,” Chris says, honestly, as they give each other a quick hug.

With a laugh, Elizabeth pulls away and taps him in the chest with an empty red Solo cup. She’s customized it with Sharpie: it has an all-caps CHRIS on one side, and a couple of rudimentary reindeers that also look like dicks on the other.

“This is so me,” Chris laughs, turning it from side to side to really get the whole picture.

Elizabeth cracks up, and then looks down, reviewing the cups she still has to hand out. After a second of thought, she asks, “Is Sebastian not here yet?”

“Nope,” Paul replies, cramming a handful of chips into his mouth. When both Elizabeth and Chris turn to look at him curiously, Paul shrugs and adds, “He texted to say he’s running late.”

Honestly - honestly, Chris is trying not to be weird about it. That is just - difficult. Sebastian is pulling away from him, and it hurts more than he thought it would.

With a frown, Chris looks down at his thoughtful little reindeer dick doodle.

“Well, his cup’s here,” Elizabeth shrugs, tugging it out of the plastic tube. She sets Sebastian’s cup beside the kegs, and then another one next to it as she adds, “I didn’t know his date’s name, so I just wrote Cool Guy.”

In an instant, Chris’s heart takes a direct nosedive down to his stomach. It’s the same flip-flop that comes before the drop on a rollercoaster ride; that weightless, terrifying bump he will forever associate with break-ups, bad news, and pain. It’s been a while since his heart pumped the brakes like this, and it’s strange to be so immediately helpless about something he has no control over.

He knew Sebastian was dating, but not seriously. Is this the same dude that stood him up at Elizabeth’s wedding? If Sebastian’s been seeing the same person for over a month, Chris is - well.

There’s that sinking feeling again.

Frustrated with himself, Chris grabs Amy’s cup out of her hand without asking, and makes his way over to the kegs. Elizabeth did a great job setting everything up: the beers she chose are fancy, craft, and perfect for a little start-up’s first holiday party.

Chris pours himself and Amy one each, and then heads back over to where she’s talking with Paul’s girlfriend, Julia.

If Chris were seeing straight, he would realize that she and Julia are the only ones here who have being an outsider in common. If Chris were seeing straight, he would spend more time with his wife. If Chris were seeing straight, he’d give her a tour and kiss her in a doorway, far away from everyone else.

“Thanks babe,” Amy smiles up at him, trying to be kind despite the tension in Chris’s expression.

Julia doesn’t seem to notice anything is wrong. She offers Chris a friendly smile, and says, “I was just describing my last semester in every gory detail.”

“Fun,” Chris says, without meaning to. It comes out before he can reel it back in, brain too busy trying to work out when Sebastian might arrive with his date to keep an effective filter in place. Immediately feeling like shit about it, Chris holds his beer out, and, mouth hanging open, manages, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

He catches Amy clocking his shitty behavior from the corner of his eye. Luckily, Julia laughs, and seems to believe him.

“It’s the holidays, man! I totally get it,” she grins, cheersing Chris’s cup, and being way nicer to him than she has any reason to be after a shitty thing like that. “The only reason I’m acting like a human tonight is because my last paper is in.”

Chris manages to kick his personal feelings to the side for a moment, and smiles tightly. He says, “Congratulations.”

“Thanks!” she replies, smiling fondly up at him. She seems to study Chris’s face, considering his expression for a moment, before she adds, “I really appreciate the spa gift card you and Sebastian sent. That was way nicer than I ever - I think I screamed when Paul gave it to me.”

Elizabeth. Chris cuts a glance to her over Julia’s shoulder, and finds himself smiling - genuinely - when she catches it, smirks at him, and wiggles her fingers back in a wave.

“Hey, everyone deserves some R&R,” Chris tells Julia, patting her shoulder firmly. “Congratulations again.”

Scott arrives twenty minutes later, and then, ten minutes after that, Sebastian and his date.

Even though Chris has only had two glasses of beer by the time they roll in, he’s tipsy. When Chris sees Sebastian’s date for the first time - tall, blond, and handsome - he feels himself begin to spiral.

“Hey guys,” Sebastian greets, a little out of breath as he heaves a big thing of what might be presents up onto the kitchen counter. “Sorry we’re late, we got stuck in traffic. We ended up walking.”

Chris doesn’t want to hear about what they did in the moments leading up to their arrival.

As Sebastian makes the rounds saying hello, Chris works on his third beer. He also wraps an arm around Amy’s shoulder, and holds her so close her mouth is practically in his armpit.

Then there’s no one left in the room for Sebastian to say hello to, except for Chris and Amy.

“Oh hey, there he is,” Sebastian says, catching Chris’s eye. His date is a couple inches taller than Chris; handsome, but not Chris’s type. He’s nothing special. Amy maneuvers herself out of Chris’s arm as they come closer, and Sebastian introduces everyone by saying, “Dallas, this is Chris, my business partner, and his wife, Amy. Amy, Chris, this is Dallas.”

“Nice to meet you, Dallas,” Amy says automatically, warmly, as she shuffles her beer from one hand to the other, so she can hold the right one out to shake Dallas’s hand.

This close, Chris can see the imperfections in his face.

“Likewise,” Dallas tells Amy, smiling.

When he holds his hand out for Chris to shake next, Chris accepts, and nods, “Dallas.”

“There we go,” Sebastian breathes, raising his beer to his mouth. Into the cup, he adds, “You’ve met everyone.”

Rolling his eyes a little, Chris covers it up by taking a sip of his own drink.

“You have such a beautiful location here,” Dallas says, tilting his head back to take in the exposed beams and tall, iron framed windows. He’s distracted, and misses the way Chris is looking at him. Sebastian doesn’t. Chris lowers his drink and stares back evenly, challenging Sebastian to say something with Amy and Dallas right there. “Look at that exposed brick, man. I’m a little jealous.”

“It’s real special,” Chris agrees easily, still watching Sebastian.

If Chris were paying attention to his wife, he’d notice the way she looks between them, confused.

“Dallas is in real estate,” Sebastian explains, firmly redirecting the conversation before Chris can derail it. He gives Amy a confident, appreciative smile - tight, no teeth - and then glances over at Dallas to add, “What it is exactly, I can never remember.”

Wow, doesn’t that sound interesting. Chris clears his throat, and takes another sip of his beer.

“I’m an Executive Broker Assistant,” Dallas smiles over at Sebastian, before laughing and rolling his eyes at himself. “It sounds way more important than it is. It’s really just a never-ending parade of open houses.”

Both Sebastian and Amy laugh at that, and then Amy says, “That sounds fun, you must meet all kinds of different people.”

“Oh yeah, it’s unreal! I sold a place to the Inman twins two weeks ago,” Dallas laughs, like that’s supposed to mean anything to Chris. He’s gonna have to look that name up later. He makes a drunken mental note to do so. “Anyway, that was a unique experience.”

Sebastian is looking at Dallas fondly. His expression is soft around the edges, warm and captivated, and it makes Chris want to tighten his grip on anything and everything he can get his hands around. To compensate, he drains the rest of his beer, and offers up a tight smile before heading over to the kegs.

“Yowza,” Scott says from behind him, kicking at the back of Chris’s knee. “What’s with the attitude, Barbara?”

Chris stands up with his freshly filled cup, and frowns at his brother over the curve of froth and foam. So he’s not great at pouring beer from the keg tap. He spent his formative years on his head with the tap in his mouth, not learning how to pour himself the perfect glass.

“I’m in a great mood,” Chris snaps, wiping a hand off on his jeans. “I’m a joy to be around.”

When Scott offers him a pointed look, Chris frowns back at him.

“You’re a mess,” Scott finally replies, unimpressed. “Get it together.”

Chris walks away from Scott without a response, mostly because he doesn’t know what he’d say. He knows he’s being a reticent asshole. But it’s too late now, his breaks have been cut, and he’s speeding towards the ground at about a hundred miles per hour.

This far in, the only person capable of softening the landing is Sebastian.

It’s easy to stand beside Elizabeth and listen to the conversation between her husband and best friend, so he does. He stops and chats with them for a few minutes, nursing his beer the whole time, and then he catches Amy to tell her he’s gotta go to the bathroom - four drinks will do that to a guy.

On his way there, he detours, and tries to loosen the tie from around his neck as he ducks into the darkened conference room with his beer.

Fucking tie. He wishes he hadn’t let Amy talk him into wearing it.

 _It matches my dress, babe,_ she smiled at him, looking at their reflection in the mirror from over his shoulder.

With a sigh, Chris props his butt against the edge of the conference table, and stares out at the street as he nurses his beer.

This room comforts him. Their office is street level - no fancy cityscapes yet - and this particular stretch of window glass is mirrored. There’s no way anyone knows he’s here. Outside, there is a never-ending number of things to settle his nervous gaze on, to distract himself from the worry he feels beginning to creep up his spine.

He’s only been sitting there for ten minutes when he hears the conference door crack open behind him.

Chris expects Amy, or even Elizabeth. What he doesn’t expect is Sebastian. 

“Hey,” he blurts, twisting at the hip to look at Sebastian over his shoulder.

On the other side of the room, Sebastian’s eyes look bright in the dim light. He closes the door quietly, and then scratches at the nape of his neck.

“Listen,” he finally replies, looking at Chris seriously. “You can’t just - treat people like that.”

For the first time tonight, Chris doesn’t have a snappy comeback. All he can say in return is, “Sorry.”

They watch each other for a moment, careful, cautious, until Chris turns back to the window. He looks at his own hazy, ghost like reflection in the glass, and then moves his gaze to the side, until he can see Sebastian’s, too. Sebastian is at Chris’s shoulder, small and far away, but he isn’t looking at their warped reflections.

He’s looking at Chris.

“Don’t do that,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t be an asshole and then act like the guy I know afterwards.”

Shrugging, Chris goes back to looking at the lights, the street, the dog tied up on the bike rack right outside the window.

“I’m drunk and stupid,” Chris says honestly, because tonight, it’s his turn. “I don’t know what else to do.”

There’s a pause, before Sebastian replies, “For starters, you can be nice to your wife and my - Dallas.”

“Your Dallas,” Chris laughs, humorlessly. He looks down into the remains of his beer, and then throws it back.

“That’s not what I meant,” Sebastian snaps, as Chris swallows tight. “My date - Dallas. It doesn’t matter.”

Setting the empty cup on the table beside his hip, Chris turns to look back over his shoulder again. Sebastian looks worried, more than anything else, and Chris can tell he’s trying to compensate for that.

In this quiet room, where it’s only the two of them, Chris doesn’t care about fair compensation.

“Is Dallas the one that dumped you at the wedding?” he asks, cruel. He wants to dig the thorn as deep into the flesh of Sebastian’s palm as Sebastian has unknowingly done to him. Arching one eyebrow, Chris adds, “Is he the one who made you drink all night, til you were too drunk to dance?”

“No,” Sebastian answers immediately, eyes sparkling to a teary shine. Chris has hit a deep, sensitive nerve, sore as a tooth. He didn’t know it was there, but now that he’s identified it, he presses harder. “That’s not what happened at all.”

Chris feels the vicious need to draw blood in the same way Sebastian did, when he said this was a mistake.

For the first time, Chris realizes that maybe Sebastian was right.

“Seems like it to me,” he continues. When Sebastian looks at him pleadingly, head tilted to the side and mouth sad, pulled down at the corners, Chris raises his eyebrows, and asks, “Why else would you drink too much and stare at me all night?”

“Chris,” Sebastian whispers, a kneejerk reaction to being the lone recipient of such a vicious punch. He brings a hand up, and palms his eye roughly. “Please don’t do this.”

Shaking his head, Chris gets back to his feet.

“Sorry pal,” he shrugs, flippant, hands in his pockets as he turns around. “Damage has already been done.”

The apathetic tone in Chris’s voice hits a nerve. It antagonizes Sebastian, and suddenly, he comes back to life. Chris sees the way Sebastian steels himself, nostrils flaring as he wipes the last unfallen tears from his eyes, and looks back evenly.

“You’re right. We’ve already been dealt our hand,” Sebastian replies, gritting his teeth before he continues, “You made your choice a long time ago, didn’t you? Doesn’t seem like who I choose to fuck has very much to do with that.”

Chris immediately knows what Sebastian is talking about, even though he won’t come out and say it.

“Don’t say shit you can’t take back,” he warns, voice low.

Just like the first night they met, and the evening they went out for drinks, and every single day in-between then and now, they’ve gravitated towards one another. Chris didn’t realize they got so close, but here they are, a couple of planets aligned after spending too long in just the periphery.

They could have been anywhere in the world, and they still would have ended up here, just like this.

“That’s what I thought,” Sebastian murmurs, lashes flickering as he stares into Chris’s eyes and smirks, “For better or worse, right?”

That hits the softest part of Chris’s gut like a punch. Without thinking, he grabs Sebastian’s shirt, and shoves him up against the window.

When Sebastian’s head thunks back against the pane, some small, hysterical part of Chris’s brain registers the dog outside, barking at the sudden unidentified noise.

The other part of Chris’s brain - the one that is suddenly, instantly calm, as smooth as a rock spun by the ocean, just from being this close to Sebastian - quietens for the first time in years. He stares back into Sebastian’s face, almost nose to nose, and it’s only a moment, but it feels like forever.

Sebastian’s eyes flicker down to look at Chris’s lips, and his body gives a little against the window.

“Tell me not to,” Chris whispers, watching Sebastian’s mouth.

Inside the thundering, heart-achingly loud space of Chris’s head, he manages to count to five.

And then he leans in, and crushes their lips together.

Sebastian’s entire body relaxes like his strings have been cut. He reaches up between them, grabs Chris by the knot of his tie, and makes the softest, smallest noise against Chris’s mouth as he kisses back. In response, Chris pulls Sebastian closer with the fingers still tangled in the fabric of his t-shirt.

Chris hasn’t kissed a man like this since before he married his wife. He feels like he is lit up - seen - for the first time in a very long time.

Pressing their lips together again and again and again, Chris closes his eyes, and rests his hands on Sebastian’s sides. He’s so warm. They can’t do this here. He pulls at Chris’s tie again. They should get back to the party.

Now that they are this far off-course, Chris has no idea where this ends.

He goes to pull away, but can’t help but lean in once more, just to feel the warmth of Sebastian’s mouth one more time. A little bit of stubble beneath Sebastian’s bottom lip is rough, prickly against Chris’s mouth, and as he untangles himself and pulls away, he can’t help but raise his hand and thumb that spot.

Sebastian watches his face, panting. Quietly terrified of what comes next.

“For better or worse,” Chris murmurs easily, leaning back in to press their foreheads together.

~

It takes them longer to pull themselves together than it did to kiss.

They both stand on opposite sides of the table. Chris is shaking, so flooded with adrenaline that his body isn’t sure if it wants to punch a fist through the window, or run a lap around the block. He’s trying to smooth his tie and shirt back down - it’s wrinkled from Sebastian’s grip - but his fingers are shaking so much, he’s just making it worse.

A few feet away, Sebastian is wide-eyed. He runs the same hand through his hair, over and over and over.

As he goes for the door, Chris steps close, and, with one hand on his waist, flips him to press back into the door.

One last kiss - short, quick, nothing at all - before they head back outside.

~

On the other side of the door, life is different.

Chris goes to the bathroom and presses a wet paper towel to his face, trying to cool the red from his cheeks. At least he’s drunk, he can blame it on the alcohol. He rinses his wrists with ice cold water and presses them to the sides of his neck as he toes the door open.

The lights are bright and blinding and all that Chris can think about is the way Sebastian’s body felt pressed up against his.

In the kitchen, the second keg has been tapped, and the food is halfway gone. Without meaning to, Chris finds Sebastian immediately, talking with Elizabeth and Dallas. Elizabeth is pointing up at the lighting fixtures, and Dallas is peering up, squinting and nodding and listening to what she’s saying.

Sebastian is beside Elizabeth, staring down into his beer. His shirt is all wrinkled over the belly where Chris twisted it up.

“Hey,” Amy says, startling the hell out of him as she appears by his elbow. “Where’d you get to?”

Swallowing tight, Chris steals a second Solo cup, not customized this time, and replies, “We forgot to wrap Elizabeth and Paul’s presents. I had to find… tape, you know.”

“Ah,” she nods, giving him a weird look. “Are you okay? You look flushed.”

Chris nods and smiles and pets her shoulder like he’s been replaced by a robot that doesn’t know how to touch his wife.

“Everything is great,” he fumbles, making a quick exit towards the kegs.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He just knows it’s way too late to pump the brakes.

~

Once the second keg has been tapped out, there’s a mass exodus to the karaoke bar down the street.

Chris has never been to this place before, but as soon as they’re in the door, he orders a round for everyone and crams into the end of the booth. He winds up beside Julia and across from Dallas, which isn’t optimal, but is better than being stuck between Sebastian and Amy.

The night rolls on until everyone is on this side of drunk, Chris is singing Call Me Maybe, and Sebastian ducks out to have a cigarette.

“Gotta pee,” Chris says, driving by the table on his way back out the door. He takes one last sip of his drink, stashes the glass on an empty table, and throws a quick look over his shoulder as he ducks out.

It takes Chris a minute to find Sebastian. He’s further down the street than Chris thought he would be, smoking and pressed up against the windows of a pizza place, drunkenly frowning at the menu through the glass.

Chris starts towards him; when Sebastian happens to glance to the side and catch him, they both smile.

“Hey,” Sebastian laughs, voice bouncing as Chris grabs him by either side of the denim jacket, and pushes him further down the sidewalk.

They stumble over themselves, Sebastian walking backwards and Chris forwards, until they get past the pizza place, and Chris navigates them through into the bodega next door. It’s practically hidden from the street due to the sheer amount of cut flowers stacked outside, a warm little cave away from the late-night bustle of Harlem.

Before they cross the threshold, Chris steals Sebastian’s cigarette from between his lips, takes a drag, and throws it back onto the sidewalk.

Sebastian laughs, both hands on Chris’s chest now, sliding underneath his jacket and into the warm spots on his sides. Chris can’t stop smiling, now, unable to stop himself as Sebastian looks into his face and laughs.

Whatever happens, this is worth it. This moment means everything to Chris.

Unable to stop himself, Chris walks them backwards into a wall of long distance calling cards and overpriced tourist maps. They hit the wall with Sebastian’s shoulders first, and then one of Chris’s hands as he falls forward a little bit, bracing his weight against the slope of Sebastian’s hips.

Chris bends at the elbow and smiles as he curls closer, until they’re kissing again and all he knows is the taste of booze and nicotine. They stay there, a few quiet moments that are hidden away from the rest, until the bodega owner finds them and chases them back out onto the street.

Outside, Chris runs after Sebastian, cracking up when Sebastian’s laughter turns breathless and free.

~

The next morning, he and Amy are nursing wicked hangovers.

In fact, they’re still hungover when night falls, and they have to head out for Peyton’s Christmas dance recital.

Amy sits in the front row with sunglasses on at 7PM, and Chris sits beside her, squinting.

Their little girl does well - so well that her dance teacher has been telling Amy she should go into a professional class next year - and waves at them as she shuffles off stage with a crooked, half toothless grin on her face.

In the audience, Chris watches with a quiet smile, and waves back until she disappears behind the velvet curtain.

~

A few hours later, hungover and sore and stupid, he sends Sebastian a text.

_Can I take you out for breakfast on Monday?_

And then, because that seems forward - despite everything - he adds, _Before work. We should probably talk._

It takes a long time for Sebastian to respond. Chris watches exactly half of The Little Mermaid as his kids run in a never-ending circuit between the kitchen, hallway, and living room. But Sebastian does text back - eventually.

When Chris’s phone vibrates, he glances back over his shoulder, like Amy is going to be there.

 _Yeah, you’re right,_ Sebastian has replied. _Is 8 alright? I have a meeting @ 10._

 _Sure_ , Chris texts back, immediately. _Anything you want._

He sends the messages, and then feels his stomach flip over - disgusted with himself - as he deletes that part of their conversation.

Just in case.

~

Among other things, Monday marks the last week of school before the kids go on winter vacation.

By the time everyone is awake and on their feet, the house is filled with that frenetic sort of energy that sizzles its way through families before impending holidays, vacations, and changes in season.

Chris remembers being a kid in elementary school, just like his are now, and how the start of a new season was punctuated by the cardboard decorations changing in the classroom. It’d be nice if things were that clear now. Maybe Elizabeth can stop by the teacher supply store and help him out.

“You up to something fancy this morning?” Amy asks, startling Chris out of his early morning thoughts.

Surprised, Chris glances back over his shoulder - from where he’s standing in front of the full length mirror in their bedroom, adjusting his button up shirt - and raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, yeah,” he fumbles, nodding, turning back to face his reflection. He knots his eyebrows at himself and nervously tugs at his wrists as he side-steps away from the mirror. “Last big meeting before everyone goes on vacation.”

Amy smiles at him and crosses the room, moving close until her stomach is pressed into his crotch, and her arms are stretched up to wrap around his shoulders. He feels her wrists cross at the back of his neck, and the familiar weight of her bracelet against his skin.

“Well, good luck,” she tells him, looking up into his face. Chris looks down at her, petrified that she’ll see something in his expression he doesn’t want her to. “You’ll knock em dead.”

Because Chris is a fucking idiot, he laughs breathlessly, and says, “That’s all Seb.”

“Yeah,” Amy replies evenly, combing her fingers through the hair at the back of his head. “Seems like it, huh.”

~

Chris rolls up to the breakfast place they’re meeting at by 7:50.

He sneaks into one of the back booths, and drops down onto the vinyl bench with a sigh.

 _Back left corner,_ he texts Sebastian, mostly out of habit, before setting his phone back down on the table, face up.

When it vibrates a second later, it startles him.

 _5 min away,_ Sebastian replies, as the waitress walks up to the edge of Chris’s table.

Chris gets two coffees and two waters - he knows Sebastian prefers both first thing - and then sits nervously, alternating between tapping his fingers on the table and biting at his nails. Then Sebastian walks through the door.

Despite it snowing outside, he looks warm as the fucking sun on a summer day. He immediately smiles at the waitress and the cook behind the front-facing counter, and then scans the room, face relaxing into a softer, smaller smile when he spots Chris sitting there like an idiot.

Raising one hand, Chris offers up a little wave, and then laughs at himself when Sebastian rolls his eyes and grins back.

“Morning,” Chris says, awkwardly bumbling to his feet as Sebastian maneuvers his way to their table.

Sebastian smiles at him again, that warm, familiar thing, and touches Chris’s arm before settling in.

“Morning,” he replies, voice rough. He definitely just woke up, Chris can see it in his hazy, sleepy eyes. He laughs again, relieved, and feels his stomach flip when Sebastian gives him a lazy grin and widens his eyes as he says, “Sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Chris smiles, so caught up that he startles when the waitress comes back with their tray of drinks.

She sets their two mugs and two glasses down between them, and then says, “I’ll give you guys a minute with the menu,” before walking away.

“Thanks for this,” Sebastian says, twisting his coffee cup around so the handle faces the right way. Chris looks at the snowflakes still stuck in his hair; the little pieces of snow clinging to the shoulder of his jacket, and melted against the curve of his cheekbone. He jokes, “It’s early for me.”

This time when Sebastian looks up and catches Chris looking at him, Chris finds he doesn’t mind.

“I know,” he says softly. Chris pauses, considering, and then adds, careful, “Sorry about the other night.”

Sebastian jerks up from where he’s carefully ripping open a sugar packet, and looks at Chris’s face, gaze flickering between both of Chris’s eyes. Chris watches back steadily, trying to stay calm. This is it.

“Don’t be sorry,” Sebastian sighs, spilling sugar granules all over the table despite the fact most of the packet does make it into his coffee. “It was… mutual.”

Chris isn’t talking about the kissing. 

“I was rude to you,” he amends, watching Sebastian’s hands as he stirs the sugar in. “And your - you know.”

Sebastian sits there for a minute, considering Chris’s words, until a slow smile spreads over his face.

“Dallas wasn’t a fan,” he admits, before laughing and then groaning, covering his face with one hand. “He called you an upstate asshole.”

“Hey!” Chris exclaims, a little too loudly - a couple of people in their immediate vicinity turn to look at him. He blushes, smiling despite himself when Sebastian cracks up, and then leans in closer, practically halfway across the table, to repeat. “Hey. I’m not even from upstate.”

Trying to temper his smile into a frown, Sebastian’s mouth wavers back and forth in pursuit of a straight face. He manages to get himself together long enough to say, “You were an asshole to him regardless of state.”

That’s pretty true. Chris won’t deny that.

“I was drunk and stupid,” Chris agrees with a sigh. He props his face against his palm, and says, “But not that stupid.”

Sebastian looks pained for a second, expression tightening as he says, “Chris, we can’t…”

It’s one thing to kiss in the spur of the moment, and it’s one thing to get caught up drunk outside of a shitty karaoke place to kiss again. It’s another to consciously carry out an affair; every moment spent together, another decision to not do the right thing.

“You guys ready to order?” their waitress asks, coming back to the edge of their table with a pen and notepad in hand.

They fumble through their orders, mostly because they don’t have time to dick around this morning. Chris opens up the menu between them and lands on blueberry pancakes first, so he gets those, and then Sebastian gets some kind of scramble thing that sounds better than pancakes. He also asks for more coffee, which the waitress promises with a smile.

When she’s gone, Sebastian is looking at Chris.

“I meant what I said,” Chris reiterates, bumping their toes together underneath the table. “Every word. Even the bad ones.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian replies softly, bumping back. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

~

They’re trying to find a sales guy to start in the New Year, so while Sebastian is in investor meetings all day today, Chris is going through resumes, and maybe potentially calling back a couple of people that sound alright on paper.

By the time lunch rolls around, Chris has shortlisted two guys, and thrown approximately fourteen resumes in the trash.

He wanders towards the kitchen, empty coffee cup in hand, just as Sebastian is coming back in from a smoke break.

“Hey,” Chris smiles automatically, as they pass one another in the hallway. Sebastian smiles, too.

The ghost-smell of smoke and his cologne follows Chris all the way to the kitchen.

~

On Peyton and Austin’s last day of school, Chris picks them up.

He crams all of their winter themed art projects from the last three weeks into their knapsacks, and then they walk to the park.

“I want a piano for Christmas, and a horse, and a new laptop, and an iPhone, and a puppy,” Peyton rattles off, as she and Chris wander hand in hand down the busy street. Austin, a half a block above them, is pretending to murder everyone with his plastic lightsaber that he just got back from the principal’s office.

Chris, only half listening, says, “You better make a list for Santa,” and then they round the corner and run face first into Sebastian.

And, it’s only a split second after that for Chris to realize Sebastian has taken a lightsaber to the knuckles.

Sebastian’s face is pure pain and surprise as he exclaims, “Fuck!” and shakes his hand out, side-stepping the other New Yorkers - who are fully ignoring him - with the exception of Peyton, who shouts, “Sebby!!”

“What the fuck?” Chris blurts, jogging forward, jerkily tugging Peyton along by the arm. “Jesus, Seb? Are you alright - fuck, Austin, put that shit away, come on.”

Austin stands there, a little bit ashamed of himself, and holds onto the lightsaber with both hands. His eyes are big and wide and staring up at Sebastian, who is still gritting his teeth in an attempt to not yell and swear as he alternates between shaking out and holding his hand.

“That hurts like a b-” Sebastian starts, and then cuts himself off with a, “Boy oh boy.”

“Sorry,” Austin apologizes, rolling his eyes.

Frowning at his son, Chris heaves Peyton up onto his hip, and reaches forward to grab Sebastian’s hand with both of his.

“Are you alright?” he asks, turning Sebastian’s hand over. His knuckle is bleeding a little, but all his fingers are still intact and accounted for. Chris looks up into his face, and asks, “What are you doing on this side of town?”

Sebastian cringes as he takes his hand back, gingerly opening and closing his fingers.

“Long story,” he sighs, making one last face before he drops his hand to his side and looks at Austin apologetically. “I’m okay, buddy, don’t worry about it.”

Frowning, Austin nods and then tucks himself behind Chris’s leg, unsure of how to respond.

“We were, uh, going to the park,” Chris frowns, tilting his head in the general direction they were headed, before he gets side-tracked with reaching back to dig the lightsaber out of his ass. “Alright, give me that.”

Sebastian nods, and watches as Chris wrestles the toy out of Austin’s grip one-handed. He looks like he’s going to say something when Peyton suddenly jerks, smacks Chris’s chest with one hand, and exclaims, “Come with us!”

Despite the snow stacked around them, Chris instantly flashes back to the heat of summer. He remembers Sebastian rolling around in the grass, cracking up and playing with the kids. He feels himself flush a little at the memory - he knows, despite his best intentions, that was where it started.

“Oh, I - uh…” Sebastian starts, trailing off. When Peyton hits him with a pleeeeeease, Sebastian immediately relents and says, eyebrows raised, “Alright, just for a few minutes though.”

“You sure?” Chris asks, setting Peyton back down on the concrete. She immediately gives someone a dirty look when they pass too close to her, brushing her backpack with their coat. “You can say no.”

With a crooked smile, Sebastian shrugs a little, and jokes, “Hey, I got nothing better going on.”

“Alright, pal,” Chris smiles back, nodding up ahead. “I’ll buy you a coffee.”

~

Even though it’s freezing, the kids go for the playground as Chris and Sebastian sit on a nearby bench, also frozen, each with a coffee on their thigh.

“I was with Dallas,” Sebastian finally explains, once a comfortable silence has settled between them.

Chris immediately frowns. He tempers down the feeling as best he can, and says, “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” Sebastian sighs, leaning forward, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this.”

Oh, jesus. Chris doesn’t know if he’s ready to hear this. He sits there, watching as Sebastian fights with himself a little bit, and then glances back over at his kids to make sure they’re still there.

After a moment, Chris gets his courage up, and promises, “You can tell me.”

“Yeah. I told him he was nice,” Sebastian admits, sighing, like pulling teeth. He isn’t looking at Chris, instead, he’s got his face in his hand and his elbow on his knee. “He invited me to Vermont for Christmas.”

Swallowing, Chris nods, and when Sebastian doesn’t continue, says, “That was nice of him.”

“Sure was,” Sebastian agrees, unfolding himself to lean back against the bench and stare down at his coffee. “It took him a minute to get it. He was surprised when I told him I appreciated the offer, but wasn’t interested.”

Chris blinks in surprise, and then asks, stupidly, “You’re not?”

“No,” Sebastian shakes his head, before sighing and rubbing his face again. “I wasn’t. I’m not.”

Nodding at nothing in particular, Chris swallows hard, and stares at the snow covered grass at their feet.

Mouth dry, he turns and asks, “Any particular reason why?”

“Don’t get cute,” Sebastian intones, but he’s trying not to smile. He and Chris share a moment - hot, sharp, short between them - and then he adds, “I can’t treat someone like that. I’ve been that person, Chris. And It hurts.”

“I haven’t,” Chris says, honestly, making Sebastian startle a laugh in surprise. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

That’s barely the half of it. Sebastian seems to understand what he’s trying to say regardless of Chris’s hamfisted attempts to put it into words.

“That much is obvious,” he smiles, looking into Chris’s eyes again. “This isn’t going to end well. You know that, right?”

The list of the things Chris knows for sure is so much shorter than the list of things he doesn’t know. He doesn’t think the relationship he has with Sebastian is on that list. He doesn’t know where this relationship is destined to exist, but what he does know, is that it’s important it does.

Out loud, Chris asks, “You really ended things with him because of this?”

“It’s all I could do,” Sebastian sighs, and then adds, sarcastically, “I don’t expect you to do the same.”

They both fall silent again, gazes trailing across the frozen grass to watch the kids on the playground. Peyton drops her mitten and Austin picks it up with the end of his lightsaber. He runs away, cackling like a maniac, until he takes a header into the wood chips and screams.

“It’s complicated,” Chris finally admits. He looks at his children instead of Sebastian. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

“Me either,” Sebastian agrees, voice soft. After a pause, he looks over, and asks, “Couldn’t have decided to hire a marketing guy fifteen years ago, huh?”

That makes Chris laugh, surprised. He looks back at Sebastian and bumps their elbows together, fond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who left a comment or kudos on the previous chapter - I hope you liked this one, too.
> 
> Also - I'll be answering Homewrecker-related asks on tumblr later tonight!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HOMEWRECKER DAY!!

On December 22nd, they start their slow annual migration back to Concord.

The historical data should have been enough to dissuade them from renting a car for the drive up to Chris’s parents, but good intentions - and the realization that their kids remember stuff now - won out.

“That’s a cute family memory, right?” Amy smiled, when they reserved the car back in October. “Road trip to grandma’s?”

At the time, Chris agreed. After an hour in the car, his greatest regret is co-signing on that plan.

Their shitty little rental Prius is barely over the Brooklyn Bridge before the yelling and smacking start, and, halfway there, Chris realizes that they should have just flown.

By the time they pull up outside the Evans compound, they’re two hours late, and dinner is already on the table.

The kids run directly to the front door and into grandma’s arms. Chris seizes the opportunity for a moment of peace, and lets himself stand underneath the same ancient trees he grew up playing under. He looks up at the sky, and loses himself in the stars, lingering there with his hands in his pockets until Amy comes around from her side of the car.

She wraps one arm loose around his waist, and they head up the cobble path together.

The days leading up to Christmas snap by with the steam of a freight train. Before Chris knows it, it’s the 24th, his mom and wife are inside wrapping presents, and he and Scott are hanging out in the backyard with the firepit and dog for company.

“You seem weird,” Scott says thoughtfully, during a lull in conversation that has him poking the embers with his stick.

Chris shrugs, buried in a camping chair with his jacket collar tugged up around his chin. He stares intently into the fire.

He misses Sebastian. They’ve been texting on and off, but in-between all the family stuff Chris has going on, and the way Sebastian is purposely burying himself in his work, there hasn’t been much time to catch up.

“I’m not,” he finally settles on, which is deeply false.

He is weird. He knows he’s being weird. He’s been having an emotional affair for four months. It’s already been two weeks since he and Sebastian kissed, but that hasn’t been enough time at all.

If he could stop the world for a second and get off, he’d do it with Sebastian’s palm in his hand.

“Lies,” Scott replies automatically, before tacking on an unnecessary, “Liza Minnelli.”

Chris narrows his eyes, and glares at Scott over the fire.

~

_It turns out my face is used to your face now._

_Oh yeah is that right?_

_It is._

_Well, I’d take your face right now. The office is creepy when no one is here!_

_I bet it is. I’d be there if I could._

_I know._

~

Like every year, Christmas morning starts with pancakes.

Chris stands at the oven in his robe, feeling like an imposter as he pours batter from his mom’s ancient mixing bowl.

He was up late last night; he couldn’t sleep. Lucky for the kids, Christmas waits for no one.

The tailspin starts as soon as everyone’s syrup-sticky plates have been abandoned at the kitchen table. It’s a trip, stacking the same plastic Disney plates Chris used to fight with his siblings over. By the time he makes it into the living room, the floor is already covered with shredded wrapping paper and knotted ribbons.

Chris has no idea how they’re going to fit everything into the car to get it back to New York.

“Mom,” he laughs, when Peyton rips open a life-size, expensive looking doll. “Jeez.”

Once everyone has had a chance to open their gifts, it’s well into the afternoon. Chris and Austin settle in to watch Gremlins - which is usually forbidden at home - and then set up Austin’s new game system, even though it’s going to have to go back into its box in a few days.

With Austin deeply entrenched in a new Mario level, Chris helps Peyton put together her Legos, and then sits patiently while she applies nail polish to his fingers.

Chris checks his phone, and gets a slap to the hand for his efforts.

“No daddy,” Peyton scolds him, serious about it. “You’ll wreck your finger.”

~

_Brie’s cooking a turkey for the first time. I’ll let you know how that turns out._

_Jealous!!!!! Sounds like leftovers for daaaays._

_Don’t get ahead of yourself, pal. I can pack it away._

~

At dinner that night, they pop crackers and wear little paper hats, and Chris eats possibly his weight in food.

By the time nine o’clock rolls around and everyone is playing board games, Chris is on the couch in a full tryptophan coma.

Scott appears in the doorway with a thing of scotch for each of them. Surprised, Chris looks up, paper hat crooked and largely forgotten on his head, and reaches one arm out to accept his glass.

“Something’s going on,” Scott sing-songs, not unkind. Then he throws a Nintendo controller at Chris’s uncomfortably full gut, and adds, “I’m gonna figure it out.”

~

_My brother just kicked my ass at Mario Kart. I’m not proud of it._

_Remind me to put my money on him next time, then._

_Oh yeah?? I didn’t know we were taking bets!!!_

_I’m just trying to make a little cash on the side!_

_Hahaha_

~

One glass of scotch inevitably turns into two, and then three, and then four.

In the low light of the Nintendo loading screen, Chris, drunk and warm, falls asleep on the couch.

When he startles himself awake the next morning, splitting headache already set in motion by the sound of the kids banging down the stairs, he looks down at lap.

Someone - Amy - has thrown a blanket over him, from chin to socked foot, and set his phone on the table with a glass of water, and bottle of ibuprofen.

Blinking slow, trying to get his surroundings straight, Chris grimaces, and settles back into the couch cushions again.

On the floor, asleep on the carpet, Scott grunts and stirs.

~

_Jeez I had a few last night._

_Me and you both pal. Good morning._

_:) How was Brie’s?_

_Hazy. Met a guy with a cute butt, I think._

_Oh yeah? Did you go over and say hi?_

_You know, it’s weird. I didn’t._

~

That afternoon, he and Scott are out on a hungover mission to retrieve a carton of cream from the grocery store.

“I’m cheating on Amy,” Chris says, staring out, blank, at the road in front of them.

In the passenger seat, Scott makes an audible gasp of surprise. He also almost gives himself whiplash, if the speed in which he turns to look at Chris is any indication of bodily harm.

“Excuse me?” he manages, finally. “You’re going to have to say that slower.”

Chris sighs as they stop at a well-timed red light. He rests his face in one hand and sighs, “Don’t make me say it twice.”

“Okay. You remember what happened to mom and dad, right?” Scott replies, sounding grossed out. He’s still staring at Chris, and now Chris can’t stop fidgeting. “You remember how much that fucked you up, right? You know what - no. I’m pretty sure this is direct evidence of how much that fucked you up.”

Frowning, Chris accidentally hits the gas pedal a little too hard when the light changes back to green.

Scott lurches backwards as Chris snaps, “Yeah, thanks. I do remember. I was there, wasn’t I?”

“Who is it?” Scott asks, like it makes a difference.

Does it?

“It doesn’t matter,” Chris deflects, shoulder checking before they switch lanes. He isn’t prepared to answer that yet. “You wanted to know why I’ve been weird, that’s why I’ve been weird.”

Scott sits on that for a minute, turning to watch out the passenger window as they pull into the grocery complex.

“Do I know them?” he asks, as Chris navigates the car into a narrow parking space between two gigantic trucks.

Chris unclicks his seat belt, and reaches for the list their mother wrote them that just says ‘cream.’

“I’m not answering that,” Chris frowns. He looks at the list instead of Scott’s face because it’s easier. “We only kissed.”

With a scoff, Scott unclicks his seat belt, too, and replies, “Good job drawing boundaries, buddy.”

“It’s…” Chris starts, ready to fire back. The problem is, he doesn’t know where that sentence goes. Instead of saying anything else, he finally takes his chances, and looks over at Scott’s face.

Scott is looking back at him blankly, like Chris is a stranger.

“Amy is going to kill you when she finds out,” he says, simple. “However you think this is going to work…”

Rubbing his forehead, Chris lets out a shaky breath, and replies, “I know it doesn’t make sense…”

“Sure. Yeah. Let’s start with that,” Scott nods abruptly, mouth pulled into a frown. “Aside from, you know, whatever wisdom you’ve got on the back burner there, this is a shitty thing to do to someone. Amy’s no saint, but… Chris, she doesn’t deserve this.”

Hearing his brother say his name like that hits Chris in the gut like a punch.

“I know,” he replies, tilting his head back against the seat. He swallows, tight, choked-up. “I know that.”

“Whatever,” Scott says abruptly, shaking his head as he reaches to open the door. As he gets out of the car, he offers back at Chris, sarcastic, “As long as you know.”

Chris sits in the driver’s seat, winded. He watches Scott’s lower half as he maneuvers himself out of the tight parking spot Chris chose.

“Scott,” he calls, just as Scott slams the car door. Frowning, Chris shakes his head a little and rubs both hands over his face, whispering, “Nevermind.”

~

_Looks like I’ll be home on the 28th._

_Oh yeah? You got big homecoming plans?_

_Maybe. Maybe not._

_I might be around._

~

Chris is in the upstairs bathroom that night, methodically brushing his teeth, when Amy sneaks in behind him.

“Hi, stranger,” she smiles, warm and soft and a little bit careful around the edges.

Amy looks at their reflection from over the curve of Chris’s shoulder, and tucks her hair back behind one ear.

“Hi,” Chris garbles through his toothpaste, making her laugh.

She leans against the side of his arm, and tells his reflection, “The kids are asleep.”

Chris nods, and, still working on his back molars, watches her curiously before leaning forward to spit and reach for a towel.

Wiping off his mouth, Chris half turns around and barely gets his towel back on the counter before Amy is moving in and wrapping her arms around his waist. She hugs him close and rests her temple against his chest, quiet and soft.

Something is happening here. Chris, at a loss, looks down at the top of her head, and tries to see what’s going on. By the angle of her eyelashes, he can tell that her eyes are open, staring at nothing.

Not knowing what else to do, he rests his cheek along the top of her head, and hugs back.

He’s been distant, and he knows that.

“Amy,” he whispers, soft. Careful. His eyes pinch closed.

She knows him, and senses something in his tone immediately. Her body stiffens, muscles tensing as she pulls back.

“What is it?” she asks, looking up at his face.

Rolling his bottom lip into his mouth, Chris considers it.

For one, terrifying moment, he toes at the loose rocks on the edge of the cliff he’s standing on, and thinks about taking the last step.

“I,” he starts, eyebrows raising. Kissed someone. Love someone who isn’t you.

Chris hesitates, mouth working, but nothing comes out. For a split second, he sees her the way she looked on the day they met, the day they got married, and the day she told him she was pregnant for the first time.

“I’m - sorry,” he finally fumbles out, words clacking like marbles in his mouth. She deserves so much more than Chris has ever been capable of providing for her. “I’ve been distant and… I know that. With everything going on, it’s been busy and… and I haven’t been around.”

She looks up at him, calm. Unwavering, like she always is.

There’s something in her expression, but it’s there and gone so fast, Chris might as well be making things up.

But for a second - just one, terrifying second - he could swear she’s figured him out.

~

Saying goodbye to his mom and stepdad is full of the usual fanfare.

They stop for coffee and donuts before they get on the freeway, and, by the time the cold noon sun arches high overhead, they’re rolling back into New York.

With both kids asleep in the backseat, Chris and Amy make their way back into Harlem peacefully.

~

“Hey!” Chris shouts up the stairs an hour and a half later, “I’m gonna take the rental back!”

Amy, muffled from somewhere in the kids bedroom, calls back, “Okay!”

In the hallway, Chris jams his feet back into his sneakers, and pulls his phone out.

_Meet me?_

It’s less than a minute before Sebastian replies, Yes.

~

The car is such a novelty, Chris forgets he’s going to have to find parking for it until he’s right outside the office.

“Fuck,” he swears, succinct.

Luckily, there’s a spot on the same block. That’s good. Chris, on the other hand, is so high-strung - blindly distracted by his drive to get inside - it takes him forever to parallel park.

The best part about parking on a New York street for the first time in five years is when he lets go of the wheel to volley back a double set of middle fingers, and the accompanying FUCK YOU TOO, PAL to the impatient dickhead that goes peeling around him.

The front doors are already unlocked, which means Sebastian is inside.

“Jesus,” Chris mutters to himself, shaky with adrenaline as he flips the lock back into place.

He didn’t mean for it to happen, but he’s already a little bit hard. His whole body feels tight, twisted up and stupid with anticipation.

Chris gets his phone out, and dials Sebastian’s number as he starts heading deeper into the office. The first spot he thinks to look is where their desks are, but Sebastian isn’t there. He listens to Sebastian’s line ringing on the other end of his phone, and pokes his head around the corner to Paul’s workspace.

Not there, either.

As Chris takes the last turn into the main hallway, he sees Sebastian come around the opposite corner.

And, jesus - Chris’s entire body lights up when he sees this man. Sebastian, who blindsides him, who surprises him every single day, and leaves him crackling with the desire to be close for just a second more. Grinning hopelessly, Chris ends the call, hand automatically moving his phone back to his pocket - and then he and Sebastian are walking towards one another.

One stride, and they’re running. Three more, and they collide, Chris’s hands in Sebastian’s shirt, and Sebastian’s hands on either side of Chris’s face.

They kiss, blindly, and Chris takes a belated step back to try and steady the sudden force of Sebastian’s weight. Chris feels his body relax as they kiss and kiss and kiss, unable to stop now that they’ve started, unwilling to let go of one another as they stumble down the hall.

It’s obvious that they won’t get far like this, and they both seem to realize it at the same time.

Sebastian laughs into Chris’s mouth when Chris hits the wall first. It doesn’t hurt; Chris lets his shoulder roll, absorbing the shock of both their weights as he tugs Sebastian closer. Chris’s hands slide from where his fingers are still twisted into the belly of Sebastian’s t-shirt. He’s so warm and so real.

Unable to stop himself, Chris makes a noise, impatient, and pushes back into Sebastian’s body, leading with his weight until Sebastian and pulls him instead.

They stumble together, feet tripping all over each other, until they both bang into the opposite wall.

“I missed you,” Chris pants, pulling away, kissing down the side of Sebastian’s neck and burying his face there. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Sebastian admits, voice sounding rough, smokey. Unused. He turns his head until his open mouth bumps into the side of Chris’s face, and whispers, “God, I missed you too.”

~

_Car return was a success_

_Good!! <3_

_Gonna drop by the office to check my mail_

_Ok. I might be in the bath when u get home haha_

_I won’t be late_

_< 3_

~

They do drop the car off: Chris isn’t that short-sighted and dumb.

Sebastian stands outside and has a cigarette while Chris dips inside to return the keys, and get he and Amy’s deposit refunded back to the credit card.

“All done,” Chris announces, stepping back out onto the concrete. He squints over at Sebastian and asks, “Have you eaten?”

Shrugging, Sebastian finishes off his cigarette, and says, “We can get delivery.”

“I won’t say no to that,” Chris grins, proud of himself when Sebastian smiles back.

Because they’re already pressed for time, Chris ends up flagging down a cab. The drive through Manhattan is short, and scored to the cab driver’s Punjabi radio station; Chris spends most of the trip trying to look over at Sebastian without it being too obvious.

Chris hands the cab driver a twenty when they pull up outside Sebastian’s apartment, and tumbles out the door.

“I need to be home by eight. Don’t let me convince you otherwise when 7:30 rolls around,” Chris jokes, watching Sebastian’s ass bounce as they jog up the stairs. “No matter what I say.”

As Sebastian unlocks his front door, he sends a grin back to Chris over one shoulder, and says, “I’ll try my very best.”

Laughing, Chris follows Sebastian into the front hall of the apartment, and makes a soft noise of surprise when Sebastian immediately turns around and tugs him into a kiss.

“Sorry,” Sebastian breathes, no trace of apology in his voice.

Chris kisses back, deep and like he means it, until he has to pull away and admit, out of breath, “I really did miss you.”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Sebastian grins, mouth all red and kissed to death. He smoothes one palm down Chris’s chest, gaze following his fingers, and licks his lips. “Way fonder.”

“What am I,” Chris teases, voice all low and flirty as he leans in. “Some piece of meat, or something?”

“Or something,” Sebastian echoes, sounding a little lost.

Stepping close, Chris takes Sebastian’s hands, mostly because they can’t seem to figure out where to rest, and lays them both against his back. Sebastian’s fingers immediately curl into his lats, holding on for dear life and making Chris’s stomach flip-flop.

Chris leans in, nose nudging against the curve of Sebastian’s cheek, and kisses at the side of Sebastian’s mouth, the line of his jaw, the stubble right before his hair.

This is it. These are the final moments that lead into the one Chris won’t be able to recover from.

He rubs at Sebastian’s hips with his thumbs. His fingers curl into Sebastian’s sides, slipping beneath his t-shirt.

Every moment a decision to not do the right thing.

“Can I,” Chris starts, and can’t even get the full question out before Sebastian breathes back a, “Yeah.”

Okay. Okay, jesus, Chris’s hands are shaking a little bit. He can’t stop it - it feels like he just shotgunned a coffee, it feels like he just got home from the gym, it feels like a lot of things that Chris hasn’t felt in a very long time. He is - officially - frazzled.

Pulling back, Chris lets go of Sebastian’s hips, and starts to undo his belt buckle and jean fly instead.

Sebastian watches Chris’s hands and nervously chews on his lips, still wet from when they were kissing.

“Oh - jesus,” Chris swears, brain going into an unexpected freefall when he gets his hand inside Sebastian’s underwear.

Sebastian has already started breathing faster, eyelids looking heavy as he blinks slowly and leans forward, face bumping into the curve of Chris’s shoulder again. Good fucking god. Chris raises his shoulder so he can nuzzle at the side of Sebastian’s face, and squeezes his hand down the length of Sebastian’s dick, just trying to get a feel for what he’s working with.

It’s been a very long time since Chris was on this side of a handjob.

“Fuck,” Sebastian swears, fingers digging into Chris’s shoulder when Chris really gets going. “Fuck - fuck - fuck.”

Dizzy with endorphins, Chris sucks down the line of Sebastian’s jaw, and tucks his nose in at Sebastian’s temple. Sebastian has started to push himself up onto the balls of his feet, trying to get closer as he digs himself into Chris’s side.

“Sweetheart,” Chris murmurs, panting against the side of Sebastian’s cheek.

Sebastian makes a noise as he comes, muscles tightening as he holds his breath and hangs on for dear life.

They stand there for a minute while Sebastian recovers, dick still jerking in Chris’s hand.

“Sorry,” he manages after a second, laughing as he looks down at Chris’s hand in his jeans. “Fuck.”

Grinning, Chris dips in for another kiss, and groans when Sebastian sucks on his lip.

It’s another round of kissing before Chris remembers what he was going to do, and gingerly removes his hand from Sebastian’s underwear.

“Now I could eat,” Chris teases, pulling Sebastian close.

Still a little winded, but otherwise back in the game, Sebastian laughs and reaches for the hem of Chris’s t-shirt.

“Maybe in a bit,” he says absently, pushing the hem up to get at Chris’s fly.

~

_Can you pick up some cough medicine on ur way home? I think Peyton’s sick. Xo._

~

After a return handjob, Sebastian orders ramen.

They eat while watching an old episode of SNL, and then retire to the couch.

“How was your week, anyway?” Chris asks, shifting to look up at Sebastian’s face.

Spread out over Chris’s chest, Sebastian shakes his head, distractedly leaning down to try and continue their kiss. He gets a couple little ones in before he tucks himself into the side of Chris’s neck, and replies, “It was good. I worked on a new proposal.”

“Oh,” Chris says into Sebastian’s hair.

He can’t help being a little surprised - Sebastian has always been pretty clear about his lack of relationship with his family, but Chris didn’t realize that distance extended into the holidays. Even if Chris’s mom disowned him, he’s pretty sure she’d still have him over for Christmas dinner.

“You’re gonna love it,” Sebastian promises, propping himself up on one elbow. He grins down at Chris.

Raising his eyebrows back, Chris tries not to think about Sebastian spending his time off alone, and replies, “I’m sure I will.”

~

_?????_

~

Sebastian gets him out the door at 8:03.

“I’ll see you later,” Chris promises, as they kiss through the crack in the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

By 8:30, he’s home again - after stopping by the pharmacy to pick up a thing of Robitussin for Peyton.

“I thought you were going to be home earlier,” Amy snaps at him, the patience of a mother who has been nursing her sick child paper thin. “I would have figured something else out.”

Stunned, Chris, hand still extended, watches as Amy jogs up the stairs to Peyton’s bedroom.

“Sorry,” he calls to absolutely no one, voice echoing down the hallway as Amy closes the bedroom door behind her.

~

They don’t get up to much for New Years Eve.

It’s never really been their thing - even back in the day, they would just order food, and have sex in front of the TV.

This year, Amy has a few girlfriends over for wine and Anderson Cooper. Chris eats dinner with them and the kids, but retreats to his office afterwards - he’s got to get some work done before everyone is back in the office come Tuesday morning.

He spends most of his night going through the remainder of resumes for the sales position. In the end, his final list comes down to two guys, and one girl.

Sebastian texts him a little, but it’s all work related. He’s out with Brie tonight, at some fancy New Year's Eve charity event you gotta spend $200 on a ticket for. Chris is sure Sebastian looks as handsome as ever.

At 11:45, he wanders downstairs and into the living room, where all four girls are drunk.

With a laugh, Chris grabs a beer and parks himself in the arm chair, where Amy sits on his lap shortly after.

They watch the countdown together at 11:59, and kiss when the ball drops in Times Square.

~

It’s a relief to get back into the swing of work.

Chris turns up at the office on Tuesday morning with a gigantic smile on his face, and coffee for everyone.

“Hey, you look great!” Elizabeth exclaims when she sees him, before hastily adding, “I mean, you were fine before.”

“I’ll take that,” he laughs, handing her coffee over on his way into the depths of the office. He drops another off at Paul’s empty desk, and then continues on his way to Sebastian, who is - shockingly - already in the office, tired and scowling at his computer screen. Chris unceremoniously plops a coffee down beside his elbow, and announces, “Morning.”

Sebastian startles, but then looks up at Chris with a wide grin.

“Morning,” he replies, voice still rough and sleepy. “You got me coffee.”

Chris turns to arch an eyebrow at the other side of the room, before looking back at Sebastian and teasing, “I got everyone coffee.”

“Thank you,” Sebastian smiles some more, gaze flickering down to Chris’s hands and back up again.

Jesus, how anyone has survived having that look turned on them before is beyond Chris.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, softly, barely holding himself back.

~

After lunch, Chris phones Anthony: the sales guy who is #1 on Chris’s most wanted list.

He agrees to come in for an interview next week, which Chris is fine with, because he’s willing to wait.

“I have a good feeling about it,” he shrugs, emailing a copy of Anthony’s resume to Sebastian for fun.

At his own desk, directly across from Chris’s, Sebastian opens the attachment, and scans through it.

“This is your area of expertise,” he finally says, making a mildly intrigued face.

Sebastian isn’t wrong - so far, Chris is three for three on new hires.

“Wanna get lunch?” Chris asks instead, tossing a pencil at Sebastian’s desk. It bounces off the rim of his coffee mug, and lands back on the floor directly between their desks.

Without looking away from his screen, Sebastian smirks and replies, “Can’t. Got plans.”

“Oh yeah?” Chris replies, immediately intrigued. He arches his eyebrows and asks, “With who?”

“Can’t say,” Sebastian says, teasing now, as he flickers a sidelong glance over to Chris despite what looks like his best efforts to stay the course. Chris’s mouth curves up into a soft smile, and then a scandalized O when Sebastian adds, “You’re not invited, sorry.”

Contemplating this sudden turn of events, Chris squints at the ceiling in thought, and then asks, “Is this something I can bribe Elizabeth into sharing with me?”

“Nope,” Sebastian grins, getting up from his chair. He wanders the short distance over to Chris’s desk, props his ass against the edge, and stares down, hands folded over his dick. “Might be a good opportunity for you to get some work done, though.”

Laughing, Chris throws his head back and grabs his chest.

“I see how it is!” he exclaims, completely smitten as he straightens up and looks at Sebastian’s face. He rolls himself back a few inches, too, so he can get an even better angle of that profile. “Just so you know, I’m incredibly productive when you’re not around.”

Sebastian leans forward, and for one, heart-stopping moment, Chris thinks he might even be going in for a kiss.

He stops just a few inches too short, grin winding across his face as he teases, “Now that, I can believe.”

Pushing away from Chris’s desk, Sebastian laughs and snags his jacket off the hook on the wall.

“I’ll figure it out!” Chris calls at Sebastian’s back, as he walks away. “I’m very smart!”

~

Chris doesn’t figure it out, mostly because he completely forgets about it.

When Sebastian says, “I found out I’m going to be in a theatre thing,” a few days later, Chris genuinely has no idea what he’s talking about.

“Huh?” he replies, as a ball of noodles flop off his chopsticks and land back in his box of lo mein. They’re in Sebastian’s living room again - a sneaky hour spent away from the office in the middle of the day. “Who? When?”

Making a face as he chews, Sebastian swallows and takes a sip of water, and then explains, “The other day, when I left for lunch. I had an audition - it’s not a big deal.”

“It sounds like a big deal!” Chris immediately exclaims, grinning. “Seb! Congratulations!”

Sebastian blushes a little bit - imagine that - and stares down into his lunch.

“It’s just a small part,” he admits, shrugging. “I just think it might be fun.”

Mind made up, Chris sets his noodle carton down on Sebastian’s crowded coffee table, and stands up. He shuffles down the length of the couch, and then takes the food out of Sebastian’s hands before tugging him up by the elbows.

“What,” Sebastian manages, looking up at Chris but ultimately letting Chris manhandle him until he’s standing.

It’s pretty clear Sebastian has no idea what to expect, until Chris wraps him up and pulls him in for a tight, warm hug.

“You’re gonna be great,” Chris promises, as Sebastian relaxes against him, and gets one arm around his back. He turns his head enough to kiss Sebastian in the hair, and then teases, “I’ll be in the front row with a gigantic sign.”

That makes Sebastian laugh. When he pulls back, he’s got a little sparkle in his eye that wasn’t there before.

“You better not,” Sebastian warns, but he’s still a little pink, flushed in the cheeks. Chris raises his eyebrows and makes a face that says ‘I make no promises,’ before leaning in for a kiss. As they pull away, Sebastian adds, “I can embarrass myself enough on my own.”

Tugging Sebastian back down to the couch, Chris holds onto him with one hand, and reaches for his noodles with the other.

“I don’t believe that,” he says honestly, grinning back over one shoulder. “You’ll blow them all away.”

Chris probably won’t be there - couldn’t be there - but he lets himself imagine for a second. It’s vivid, too: he’d show up with flowers, and sweep Sebastian off his feet. Maybe they would go on a date, and hide away from the cold.

It’s already a battle, keeping it all straight. What’s real and what’s not, what could be and what can never.

For now, Chris eats his noodles, and presses closer to Sebastian’s side.

That’s enough for today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your comments on the last chapter. I'm going to try and respond to some of them today, and will also be over on my tumblr answering messages there <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S HOMEWRECKER TIME.

On Thursday, Chris officially hires Anthony.

“See you Monday, man,” he grins happily, hanging up the phone.

Chris is heading towards the kitchen a few minutes later - feeling pretty good about himself, if he’s being honest. He should hire people for a living, or something - when the conference room door opens abruptly, and he’s yanked through it.

“Who,” he startles, always good for getting scared. As he steps back against the door, it clicks shut under his weight.

Sebastian, standing in front of him with both hands on Chris’s shoulders, grins.

“That actually scared me!” Chris admits, heart racing in his chest.

Laughing softly, Sebastian gives him an ‘aw’ and then moves in, one hand sliding up to hold onto the curve of Chris’s jaw as they kiss briefly, softly. It’s over so fast, and Sebastian’s mouth smells like cigarettes. Chris’s brow tightens as he chases the smell, wanting another taste.

Sebastian lets Chris kiss him as deep as he wants, but Chris can feel him keeping control. He pulls back when Chris leans in an inch too much, and snorts a laugh against Chris’s cheek when Chris finally gets impatient and grabs him around the waist.

“I see how it is,” Sebastian murmurs, noses bumping together as Chris leans in for another.

Chris smiles as Sebastian starts kissing down his neck, nosing at the collar of his t-shirt, and the soft skin at the base of his throat. Chris can’t help groaning softly - they have to be quiet, it isn’t even the afternoon yet - and letting his skull thunk back against the door.

This is dangerous. This is playing with fire.

If they think they can get away with this for very long, they’ll lose.

Sebastian makes his way down Chris’s body, fingers hooked over the waistband of Chris’s jeans as he settles on his knees.

All Chris wants to do is watch Sebastian. He swallows tight as Sebastian looks up at him, and bites at his belly through the fabric of Chris’s t-shirt.

“Seb,” Chris breathes. He rests both hands in Sebastian’s hair because he doesn’t know what else to do with them, and watches as Sebastian sucks a wet, tonguey kiss right above Chris’s waistband. His muscles flex, shining with spit as Sebastian leans back to unzip his fly. “Oh, jesus.”

Grinning, Sebastian pulls Chris’s jeans right down, tugging them over the arch of Chris’s hips because they’re just a little too tight to drop easily. Chris may or may not have had this same pair since college: skinny jeans were cool then, and he’d argue that they still are now.

His dick looks completely ridiculous trapped in his underwear. He’s boned up already - like he could be anything else with Sebastian on his knees with his mouth halfway to Chris’s dick - and Sebastian knows that, too, makes a show out of rubbing Chris through his briefs.

One of Chris’s hands pop up and jams into the doorway to steady himself when Sebastian presses his face into the length of Chris’s dick, mouth hot and exciting even through Chris’s underwear.

“Oh fuck,” Chris pants, unable to get a grip. He hasn’t been this turned on since he was a teenager.

Sebastian tugs Chris’s underwear down, and even though Chris is still alternating between swallowing hard and praying up at the ceiling, he can still hear the way Sebastian groans when he sees his hard-on.

Chris knows he has a nice dick - he’s seen his fair share of weird looking cocks - but the way Sebastian is looking at him blows any prior fantasies Chris may have had right out of the water. Chris thought he’d have some time to prepare for this: a lunchtime blowjob is not how he thought his workday would go.

Although, no complaints.

Freeing Chris’s dick from the trap of his underwear’s elastic band, Sebastian starts sucking him, one hand holding Chris’s hip steady as he goes. Chris knows he isn’t going to last long - that is a fact - so he just holds on for the ride. With the exception of Sebastian’s apartment, and the rare opportunity he gets to jerk off at home, Chris has not exactly been getting off.

When Chris comes, he feels like he’s taken a shovel to the jaw. He falls forward, holding himself up with one hand on Sebastian’s shoulder as he manages a weak, “Oh god, I’m gonna…”

Sebastian makes a noise around his dick, and then Chris is watching himself come, feeling disconnected - like he’s in a fantasy.

“Uh,” Chris manages, dick drunk and dumb. He hasn’t let go of Sebastian’s shoulder yet.

Still on his knees, Sebastian sucks Chris up and down a couple times, and then pops up, pulling Chris’s body straight until they can kiss again.

Chris kisses back stupidly, blindly, just trying to hold on for the ride.

~

That night, Chris is in his home office, dinking around on his ukulele.

He does have actual things he could be doing - like work, or even checking his Facebook notifications - but he hasn’t been able to clear his head all day, and this is something he can do with his hands.

Chris has never been good with sheet music, so he plays everything by ear. Tonight he makes his way through an old Marvin Gaye song, and then the Pixies, because they always cheer him up. He remembers the last time it was nice enough to sit outside and do this. How clear the sky had been. How clear his head had been.

“Hey, you busy?” Amy asks quietly, softly knocking on the doorframe.

At the sound of her voice, Chris’s eyebrows jerk up. His muscle memory turns him around, spinning his chair until he can actually see her standing there in the doorway. She looks so familiar, so warm. She’s still beautiful. She’s still everything Chris ever wanted.

He doesn’t understand why that piece of his brain isn’t clicking into place anymore.

Chris lets his thumb drift away from the ukelele strings, and half smiles a genuine, “Not at all.”

“Wanna watch a movie?” she asks, and for the first time in his life - ever, in his life - he sees a flash of uncertainty snap across her face.

It hits him like a punch in the gut.

With no hesitation, he puts the ukulele down, and breathes a, “Yeah - yeah, of course.”

She smiles at him, and, fifteen minutes later, they’re laying in bed and watching a movie on the TV.

Amy falls asleep halfway through, leaving Chris alone and lonely. He looks at his left hand, tanned and rested on the curve of her hip. The TV screen, glowing in the darkness, makes his wedding band glint with green and blue light.

~

They got married young.

At the time they’d been living in Buffalo, of all places - that’s where they first met. Chris was finishing up the last year of business school he’d take before inevitably dropping out, and Amy was still stranded there, working in the mall after breaking up with her previous boyfriend.

Asking Amy to marry him had been the easiest decision of Chris’s life. 

She never wanted the big ceremony. If she had, Chris would have picked up a second job or taken out a loan. All Amy wanted was to elope, and then party with friends - so that’s what they did. A ceremony in Delaware Park, and a house party that night.

Chris’s mother hadn’t been very happy about that, but what Amy wanted was more important.

When Chris thought about that day, all he saw was Amy. Amy, standing and smiling against the wind, laughing as she tried to get the hair out of her mouth and put it back behind one ear. They didn’t even buy fancy clothes - Amy wore her old plaid dress, and Chris had his usual jeans and a band t-shirt.

Every day after that, it had been the most important day of his life.

Until Austin was born.

And then Peyton.

And then Sebastian.

Four separate cornerstones in his life, all remarkably different, but same in the way they changed him forever.

Chris doesn’t remember the night he met Sebastian. He doesn’t remember what Sebastian was wearing, or what they talked about. He remembers playing with his kids, and the smell of Amy’s hair when he kissed the side of her head.

In bed, Chris looks at his wife, asleep and curled up on her side.

He remembers what Sebastian looked like today. He remembers how the sunlight caught his face as he was laughing, and the little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

Amy, he hasn’t looked at in days.

~

While waiting for Anthony to arrive on his first day, Chris takes the opportunity to creep Sebastian’s Facebook.

He creeps and he creeps and he creeps, and then he finds it:

A public Facebook event for the play Sebastian is going to be in.

Being extra sneaky, Chris copies all of the information into a note on his phone, and then tries really hard to not give himself away when Sebastian immediately clocks the suspicious expression on his face, and asks what’s up.

“I’m just excited about the new guy,” Chris lies, going for easy breezy.

Sebastian squints at him, smirks a little bit - not buying it, then - and goes back to what he was doing.

~

Anthony “Come on, man, call me Mackie” Mackie has been in sales since he was sixteen.

He also happens to fit into their strange office of weirdos immediately.

Chris’s version of team building is eating as a family, so the whole office goes out to lunch on Mackie’s first day. The burger place four facades down knows every single one of them on a first name basis - Even just likes burgers, okay - and Chris is pretty sure that’s the only reason they score a booth in the back at this time of day.

As he wiggles along the bench seat after Sebastian, he grins over at Elizabeth on the other side of the table.

“Ooh, you wanna get closer to the new guy, I get it,” Mackie jokes, when Paul accidentally sits on his hand.

Sebastian and Mackie end up sitting across from one another against the wall. It’s pretty obvious they hit it off immediately - Chris can’t keep up with their conversation while he and Elizabeth and Paul discuss Adele, but he hears Sebastian laugh about a thousand times, and that makes him smile.

After lunch, Paul and Mackie lead their walk back to the office. In the middle is Elizabeth - who is deeply entrenched in making a new Instagram post to their business profile - and finally, Chris and Sebastian.

“You have anything this afternoon?” Chris asks, squinting a little into the winter sun - he forgot his sunglasses on his desk.

Sebastian exhales smoke over his shoulder and shakes his head, ashing his cigarette as they walk by a garbage can.

“Tomorrow,” he says, glancing over just as Chris looks at his face. He grimaces and adds, “All morning, actually.”

Ahead of them, Elizabeth holds her phone up for a picture and sing-songs, “Someone told you that was a bad ideeeeeaaa.”

Chris laughs, watching as Sebastian hurries up behind her to get his face all up in her selfie. Once Chris realizes what Sebastian is doing, he follows. They each pop over one of her shoulders: Chris makes a dumb face initially, but he ends up laughing when he checks out Sebastian on the screen, and sees that he’s doing a Zoolander-esque scowl.

Elizabeth cracks up, and turns to kiss Sebastian on the cheek as she takes the picture.

“Tag me in that,” Chris requests, still grinning. He looks over at Sebastian and adds, “That’s one for the wall.”

Their wall, of course, is two feet of floor-to-ceiling corkboard drilled directly into the kitchen brick. Over the course of Elizabeth’s tenure as their Pam Beesly, she’s pinned Polaroids and printer paper copies of their various exploits in and around the office. Chris had to pretend he wasn’t tickled when he rolled in one morning to find the picture Sebastian took of him wearing the pink hoodie on the San Francisco pier featured front and center.

It maybe brought a gigantic smile to his face, despite the lousy weather outside.

Everyone changes positions as they walk, filing into a single line to get around a tourist family taking up literally the whole sidewalk. Eventually, Chris falls into stride with Mackie.

“Thanks for lunch, man, that was great,” Mackie tells him, elbowing Chris’s arm a little.

Chris looks over with a genuine grin, and says, “Our pleasure, man. We’re happy to have you here.”

“We’ll see about that!” Mackie cracks, making Sebastian laugh behind them.

~

The year creeps along.

January is the slowest month of them all, but it freezes into February ice soon enough.

Suddenly the outside air is inescapably cold, sharp enough to creep through every extra layer Chris manages to squeeze himself into. For a few dark-at-4PM days, even the concept of spring is nothing more than a sunny memory.

Chris completely forgets Valentine’s Day is right around the corner, until he sees a subway ad for diamonds on February 1st.

A week and a half later, on the afternoon of Sebastian’s theatre event, Sebastian narrows his eyes at Chris, and says, “Something is going on.”

“Nothing is happening!” Chris defends automatically, the end of his pen still balanced against his bottom teeth.

Across from him, with his feet kicked up on his desk, Sebastian gives Chris another Look. His forehead crinkles up as he studies Chris’s face, looking for a tell, and then he squints a little, trying to see if Chris will break under scrutiny. When Chris holds his ground - staring back hopelessly - Sebastian goes back to the print-out he’s reading.

Chris was not expecting to make it through that. He is, generally, not currently the poster boy for innocence.

He goes back to putting their next slide deck together quietly. He’s got the ticket he bought with the company credit card for Sebastian’s show that starts in eight hours, and he still hasn’t figured out a way to slip what will inevitably be an all-night absence past Amy.

With a frown, Chris thinks about Valentine’s Day, and leaving early on the 14th to make he and Amy’s 5PM dinner reservations.

He’s on autopilot as he copy and pastes information from a word document into their Powerpoint. He doesn’t do any of the colors or the designs - Chris leaves that part for Sebastian - but he’s good with bullet points and summaries.

“You wanna get lunch?” Sebastian asks offhandedly, chair squeaking. Not paying attention, he adds, “Maybe Thai.”

Ready to get away from this deck and these thoughts, Chris immediately clicks his computer to sleep, and replies, “Sure.”

~

It’s easy, now: they have a routine.

The Thai place doesn’t have their food ready by the time they get there, so they end up waiting, Sebastian propped up on a super high stool with a piece of the New York Times, and Chris standing beside him, one elbow on the little cafe table as he checks his phone with his free hand.

Once they’ve got their food, Chris carries the bag, and they make their way over to Sebastian’s apartment.

Upstairs, they eat in the living room. Sebastian doesn’t have a table or chairs, so they sit on the couch and eat fried rice and curry, and Chris doesn’t feel bad at all when he leans over to sneak a kiss.

“You’re spicy,” Sebastian comments, looking down at Chris’s lips as they pull away from one another.

Chris laughs and leans in some more, rubbing his spicy mouth all over Sebastian’s neck.

Back at the office, Elizabeth greets them in the lobby, and then they go their separate ways for the afternoon. Specifically, Chris ducks into the empty conference room to call Amy. It’s now or never. He makes sure the door is closed and locked behind him.

Twice.

“Hey baby,” he greets, when she answers the phone.

Amy sounds distracted - some kind of plastic zip rips open in the background - but she answers, “Hey! How are you?”

I’m about to lie to you - really, viciously lie to you - for the first time since I met you, Chris thinks.

“Good, everything’s fine,” is what he says out loud, working the curve of his thumbnail against his bottom teeth. “Listen, I was thinking I might stay late tonight. Scott needs some paperwork signed. If - if I can get it done today, I’m thinking I’ll duck out early on Tuesday.”

Jesus, his heart is racing. He presses a hand to his chest and waits.

“Oh,” Amy replies, sounding surprised. She’s better at this than Chris is - she always has been - so she recovers fast. “That should be fine - I mean, Peyton has gymnastics later, but I can take Austin with me.”

Throat tight, Chris tips his head back, and pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“Only if you’re sure, babe,” he grits out, eyes closed in a grimace. “I can be there.”

She’s more sure of herself now. Her normal voice is back as she replies, “I’m sure. I think Brie is coming over tonight for the Bachelor, anyways. How long are you going to stay?”

Until he can’t any longer.

“I’m not sure, baby - I guess as long as it takes,” he says. Chris steels himself before adding, “I might crash at Scott’s.”

“I - yeah,” Amy replies, cutting herself off. There’s a beat where neither of them say anything, before she adds, “I mean, that’s fine. Hey, I’m driving, I gotta go - but call me later, okay?”

She isn’t driving. Chris knows she isn’t driving. He’s pretty sure he can hear the dryer humming in the background.

“Sure,” he says, finally opening his eyes. “I love you. Bye.”

“Bye,” Amy replies, not missing a beat.

~

Chris, by the skin of his teeth, makes it all the way to the end of the day without letting anything slip.

He does an alright job. Compared to historical data, his poker face is improving. Sebastian still does better.

Aside from Chris - who still isn’t supposed to know the show is happening tonight - Sebastian hasn’t told anyone he’s getting back into theatre. He even managed to make it through Elizabeth’s elaborate line of questioning about his after work plans without letting anything slip.

Chris knows he wouldn’t have been so strong.

At five o’clock sharp, Elizabeth leaves to meet her husband for dinner. Paul and Mackie are both gone by 5:30.

“I gotta leave,” Sebastian laughs, voice soft as he accepts another kiss anyways. “Mm, I got plans!”

Nosing into the hair behind Sebastian’s ear, Chris kisses the soft spot there, and murmurs, “Oh yeah? Hot date?”

“The hottest,” Sebastian replies immediately, laughing when Chris squeezes his ass. “Hey!”

With a grin, Chris smacks one last kiss to Sebastian’s cheekbone, and takes a step back. Even though he’s hands off, that doesn’t stop him from watching Sebastian as he slides back down off the edge of the desk Chris got him up on. He straightens himself out, half boner and all, and pets Chris on the side as he passes by.

“See you tomorrow?” Sebastian prompts, as Chris makes a showy attempt at gathering his own belongings.

Smiling, Chris says, “You know it,” and they kiss once more - briefly - as Sebastian hoists his bag up onto one shoulder, and then heads for the door.

Chris hangs out at his desk, and gets a bit of extra work done while he still can. He brought a second shirt to change into - he doesn’t know exactly what people wear to the theatre, but he knows it’s probably not an ill-fitting black crew neck. At 7, he strips out of his t-shirt, and pulls a fresh button-down up over his shoulders.

It’s nice. He got it for Christmas. He hasn’t even had a chance to wear it yet.

He’s still doing up the tiny buttons as he kicks out of his sneakers, and steps into his nice-ish business shoes instead. He actually keeps these at the office, because that seems like the kind of thing a CEO should do.

As he leaves, he hits the lights, and tugs his winter jacket on.

The walk to the theatre is cold. As he wanders, he tugs his phone out of his jeans, and texts Amy.

_Hi baby I am on my way to Scott’s. I will keep you updated._

Chris barely gets a block before she texts back, _Sure xo._

Sighing, he re-reads the two messages, and then tucks his phone back into his pocket. He’s never been to this theatre before, but that’s definitely it up ahead - he can see the marquee from here.

As he approaches the box office booth, he clears his throat nervously. He ordered his ticket online, on the off-chance that it might sell out before he gets here, but the girl sitting behind the counter seems surprised when he says he’s here for pick-up rather than to purchase.

“Thanks,” he says, fumbling his pre-printed ticket and credit card back out of the little currency tray.

Inside, the theatre is dark. It takes a minute for his eyes to adjust, but they do, and then they lead him to the bar.

Chris snags himself a ten dollar plastic cup of wine - though he briefly, briefly considers a PBR - and then heads down the red carpeted steps to his seat. It’s a small theatre on the inside, filled with rows and rows of patchy velvet fold-down seats and baroque balconies, but it’s comfortable. Warm.

As Chris settles down into his seat he looks around, wondering if there’s somewhere he might be able to snag some popcorn.

Couples and groups of friends settle in all around him, leaving Chris to sit alone and thumb through the little program he was handed at the door. 

Most of its contents are ads and nonsense, but the cast page makes him stare. That’s where he finds the inky portrait of Sebastian, forehead shiny and grin bright. Chris feels his stomach flip as he looks over the tiny black and white square and re-reads SEBASTIAN STAN a dozen more times. He smiles down at the picture helplessly.

The house lights go down when Chris is halfway through his wine with ink all over his fingers from touching the program so much. As the lights focus on the stage and the velvet curtain goes up, Chris folds the program in half, and tucks it safely inside his jacket.

Ultimately, the beginning of the play is… not great. Chris doesn’t really know what the difference between good and bad theatre is, but he does know he’s totally lost and honestly kind of bored when he isn’t squinting and trying to figure out what’s going on.

That all changes when Sebastian walks out on-stage. As his familiar, rough voice rings out in the dark of the theatre, Chris feels the little hairs at the nape of his neck stand up on end. It’s strange and terrifying to be one among a hundred others watching Sebastian perform.

By the time the play is over, Sebastian has had way more lines than he made it sound like he would when he brushed the whole thing off that day. He also has a gigantic, proud of himself smile on his face.

Chris can’t help it - he’s too proud - he has to stand up and clap as everyone cycles through taking their bows. The audience’s scattered clapping turns into round after round of applause, but no matter how much Chris claps and woos, he can’t seem to get the people around him interested in joining. Either way, he doesn’t sit back down until the curtains swing closed, and the house lights come back on.

He has no idea where actors go after a show, so he sits in his seat for a few minutes while the audience clears out, awkwardly shuffling his legs to and fro every time someone has to crawl over him to get out to the aisle.

When a guy with a broom and dustpan gamely makes his way down the aisle, Chris takes a chance and heads over.

“Hi,” he greets, trying not to make it weird. “Where would I go to meet a friend who was in the play? Like where does that happen.”

The usher stares at him blankly, clearly trying to work out if Chris is some kind of threat.

“The side door,” he says finally, voice completely flat. “It’s on 149th.”

“Hey, thanks,” Chris replies, touching the usher’s elbow fondly before he heads for the exit.

The cold bite of winter air is refreshing as he steps back out onto the street. It’s crowded with everyone that just flooded out of the theatre: some smoking at the curb, others waiting for cabs and Ubers. Chris frowns, looks from left to right, and then starts around to the other side of the building.

As fate would have it, there’s a little flower cart set up on the corner. Chris digs through his pockets for cash, and comes up with enough to buy a little thing of flowers. It’s just a cheap bouquet - mostly daisies, plus one sunflower - but the spontaneity of it makes Chris flush. He accepts the flowers from the cart guy, who barely looks up as he takes Chris’s money.

He ends up waiting at the side doors on 149th for a very long time. Long enough to wonder if he miscalculated, and Sebastian has already left through the main doors with everyone else.

Then the doors crack open, and there’s a swell of conversation and laughter.

Chris steps to the side as two girls walk out first, and then Sebastian. He feels the blush already creeping its way up his throat as the girls abruptly cut off their conversation and look at him.

Behind them, Sebastian has stopped on a dime. He looks completely floored as he stares at Chris.

“Hey,” Chris manages, and then can’t help but laugh as he immediately flounders and blurts out, “I was being suspicious!”

Both girls turn to look at Sebastian, one grinning and the other seriously confused. Sebastian’s gaze flickers away from Chris for a second, just long enough to look at each of them, before he raises his eyebrows and shrugs his shoulders wildly.

“I… what the hell,” he finally manages, a certain brand of wonder to his voice as he looks back at Chris.

His eyebrows arch up into his hairline as he looks down and notices the flowers, now in a death grip in Chris’s hand.

“Got it. See you tomorrow,” one of the girls says, grinning at Chris before she leans over to smack a kiss to Sebastian’s cheek.

They continue on their way - clearly on a mission for food as they head down the sidewalk - and Chris stands there, like a fucking asshole with an earnest look on his face.

“Say something,” Chris finally blurts, breaking. “Literally, anything.”

“Chris, I,” Sebastian starts, cutting himself off as he rubs over his mouth with one hand and steps closer. “You got me flowers?”

Chris breathes out a shaky laugh, some of the tension leaving his chest, and nods.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, looking down at the flowers between them. Sebastian rests his fingers along the curve of Chris’s hand, but doesn’t make a move to do anything else. “I wanted to. Jesus, you were great up there.”

“Oh my god,” Sebastian laughs, blushing a little when he realizes Chris was in the audience. “I told you not to. That was you?”

Now Chris blushes, rubbing his face with one hand when he realizes Sebastian heard him clapping and cheering like a fool.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he manages, grinning before he cuts himself off with, “Can you take these, my hand is sweating, I’m so fucking nervous.”

That makes Sebastian laugh again, entirely charmed as he looks at Chris’s face. He nods and takes the flowers from Chris’s death grip, adjusting the bag on his shoulder so he can tilt the flowers to the side and look at them even more. He’s so genuinely surprised, Chris can’t stop looking at the expression on his face. Chris will never get enough of that.

“Can I take you out to dinner?” he asks next, voice soft.

Sebastian finally clicks back to reality and looks away from the flowers. He seems to notice Chris’s nice shirt and work shoes for the first time.

“You dressed up,” he says, disbelieving.

“Yeah,” Chris grins, relieved that Sebastian isn’t mad about him crashing the show. “I was thinking pizza.”

Running his free hand through his hair, Sebastian nods and looks at Chris’s eyes as he agrees, “Pizza sounds great.”

~

_Sorry it took me forever to respond. Peyton wouldn’t get in the bath_

_Haha_

_Anyway I’ll call you when Brie goes home <3_

_Sure babe have fun!!!_

~

They end up at a little hole-in-the-wall Italian place.

It’s only a few blocks west of the theatre, but they take their time walking there. Five minutes into their journey, they happen to pass right underneath Chris’s favorite street art in all of Harlem. He smiles and cranes his neck to check it out as they walk past: rain clouds and cats and dogs, spray painted all along the side of an ancient, fifties era brick pharmacy.

A block later, the neon WE BUY GOLD signs light up the edges of Sebastian’s profile as they make their way past a neighborhood of loan sharks and cash advance places, half of them still open, and the other half hidden behind tall black metal gates.

“I think this is it,” Sebastian says, making Chris look away from the prison barred windows full of guitars and electronics.

Chris tucks his face into his jacket collar - it’s cold tonight - and offers a passionate, “I’m hungry!”

“Me too, pal,” Sebastian agrees, holding the main door open for Chris to step through. “Wow.”

Laughing, Chris unzips his jacket and takes in the lobby decor.

“Wow is right,” he says to no one in particular, head tilted back as he looks up at the numerous plastic ferns hanging in pots from the ceiling.

The hostess smiles a lot, and shows them to a private-ish table in the back. Chris spends most of the journey there zig-zagging around tables that are already stuffed full of families and couples. Underneath pans of pizza and baskets of bread, Chris clocks Lady and the Tramp style red and white checkered table cloths as he passes by.

“This is great,” Chris laughs, taking a seat at their table.

It’s pretty busy - almost every seat in the house is full - but they get their food in a reasonable amount of time. Soon enough, Sebastian is watching Chris wrestle the pan pizza between them with the provided cutter.

“Jeez,” Chris grimaces, spinning the pan around to get to where he hasn’t cut yet. He manages to wrangle it into eight slices eventually, even though there should be twelve. Cracking up, he plops two slices on Sebastian’s plate, and then two on his own as he holds a hand out and admits, “Okay, they’re not perfect.”

“They look good,” Sebastian lies, laughing as he reaches for his napkin and adds, “Solid effort.”

Grinning a little bit, Chris shakes his head and then studies his slice, trying to figure out how he’s gonna pick it up.

“It’s hot,” he warns, mostly out of kid-habit, even as he AHHs and burns his own finger on the edge. Lest he hurt himself twice, Chris reaches for his wine and sits back. With a smile, he looks at Sebastian over the little votive candle glowing on the table between them, and admits, “I am glad you weren’t mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Sebastian replies easily, poking at some melted cheese. “I am surprised.”

Smile widening into a grin, Chris raises his eyebrows and counters, “You looked surprised. You still look a little surprised.”

“I thought - you know,” Sebastian starts, stumbling over himself. “Nights usually don’t work.”

Chris’s stomach flips. They never talk about the specifics of what they’re doing - of what Chris has to do to make it work.

“It’s an important night,” he says, voice rough with honesty as he watches Sebastian abandon his pizza and reach for his own drink instead. A slow little smile curves the corners of Chris’s lips up, before he adds, “You were phenomenal.”

On the other side of the table, Sebastian watches him back, eyes bright as stars in the reflection of the candle light.

“It was stupid,” Sebastian says finally, but he’s smiling a little. After a pause, he asks, “You really think so?”

Does Chris think so, jesus. Sebastian could do anything and Chris would be right there in the front row.

“Yeah,” he answers, voice earnest. “I do, Seb. I think one day I’m gonna be looking for a new marketing guy.”

Laughing, Sebastian rolls his eyes a little and sips his wine.

“I don’t know about that,” he finally says, diplomatically.

With a grin, Chris finally picks his pizza slice up, and adds, “Come back for me when you’re all blockbusters and millions of dollars, okay?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian echoes, looking a little lost but ever enchanted as he watches Chris’s face. “I think I might.”

Laughing, Chris shakes his head and says, “You better.”

~

“You better,” Sebastian laughs, making a racket as he stumbles back into the wall of mailboxes. “Ow. You better get - mmm.”

Chris kisses him again, and then pulls back an inch to grin against Sebastian’s open mouth. He sneaks both hands around Sebastian’s waist in an attempt to keep their combined weight off the range of mailboxes that take up the entire back wall of the lobby in Sebastian’s apartment building.

“Better get what?” he asks softly, teasing.

A little out of breath, Sebastian unhooks Chris’s hands from the insides of his jacket, and then turns around to go back to what he was trying to do.

“You know what,” Sebastian laughs, leaning his head back when Chris mouths at the ticklish spot at the side of his neck.

Chris presses his pelvis into Sebastian’s lower back, hands sliding up Sebastian’s stomach, and says, “Tell me what.”

“Home,” Sebastian manages, finally getting his mailbox lock twisted open. As he wedges the two pieces of oversized junk mail out of the slot, he presses his ass back against Chris, and admits, “It’s gonna be hard to say goodbye if you don’t leave soon.”

Nosing at the shell of Sebastian’s ear, Chris closes his eyes and tucks himself closer, palms flat and warm under Sebastian’s t-shirt.

“Maybe I won’t,” he whispers into Sebastian’s hair.

He feels Sebastian’s muscles tense up at that, but keeps his eyes closed so he won’t have to see his face.

“You have to,” Sebastian counters, voice a little bumpy as he fights with himself.

Shaking his head, Chris opens his eyes, and tilts so he can see what Sebastian’s expression is. Sebastian’s eyes are bright - they’re always bright - but they’re guarded, not at all like they were in the restaurant. When Sebastian turns slightly, catching Chris’s gaze, Chris swears he sees the last ember of warmth flicker and then go out.

Chris reaches to take Sebastian’s mail, and murmurs, “Not tonight, I don’t.”

“Chris,” Sebastian breathes.

Smiling, Chris presses a warm kiss against the side of Sebastian’s neck, and then tucks himself even closer as he adds, “I got other plans. I got a real sweet guy.”

“Sweet, he says,” Sebastian smiles, and Chris can see now that some of the tension has gone from his face.

As Sebastian locks his mailbox up, Chris presses his hips forward again and reiterates, “The sweetest.”

“Boy,” Sebastian teases, getting himself turned around, not too much room to work with in Chris’s tight embrace. He leans back an inch, weight braced on his palms against the mailbox ledge, and looks into Chris’s face as he adds, “Sounds like you got it bad.”

Laughing, Chris wraps both arms around Sebastian’s shoulders, and says, “You got me there,” into his mouth.

The walk up the stairs to Sebastian’s apartment is arduous with a hard-on in his jeans. Chris holds onto Sebastian’s mail with his life, fingers tight and white-knuckled, and chews at his lip as he follows Sebastian up the steps.

Outside of Sebastian’s apartment, they come to an abrupt stop, Chris bumping into Sebastian dick first as Sebastian pauses to flip through his keyring. By the time Sebastian finds the right key and gets his door unlocked, they’ve given into kissing in the dark, mail scattered on the ground as they stumble a few feet into Sebastian’s apartment, jackets discarded at the door.

“I have to,” Sebastian manages, kissing back, one arm slung up around Chris’s neck. “Flowers. The - water.”

Chris laughs into Sebastian’s mouth, and pulls at Sebastian’s clothes as they start walking towards the kitchen.

“I don’t have a vase,” Sebastian laughs back, barely able to turn his lips back out of a smile before Chris is kissing him again, both thumbs on his cheeks. 

As they go staggering through the kitchen doorway, Chris grabs onto the frame so their combined weight doesn’t go tumbling down. He tries his best to steer them over to the counter, but it’s hard with Sebastian sucking at his jaw and his neck.

Sebastian gets himself turned around when they bump into the edge of the laminate.

He’s not thinking right, and his choice to grab the coffee pot by its handle is a testament to that. Chris kisses at the side of Sebastian’s neck and feels his ass up with both hands as Sebastian jerkily twists the tap and fills the empty pot up with water. Then he stands there, curving his shoulder up into Chris’s mouth, until the water starts to overflow.

“Uh,” Chris manages, blindly reaching forward to help.

Between the two of them, they get a reasonable amount of water in the glass pot, and then jam the flowers in there stems down. By the time Sebastian gets himself turned back around, he’s gone from holding it together to desperate, tongue sliding against the stubbled curve of Chris’s bottom lip as he miscalculates a kiss.

Chris groans into it, and kisses back. He hasn’t picked a guy up in a while, but he’s reasonably sure he can still make it work.

Hands sliding down, he grabs Sebastian at the back of each thigh and pulls his body close, until their dicks are pressed together, and he can feel Sebastian’s muscles from pec to belly. When Sebastian realizes what Chris is about to do, he makes a little noise, and reaches to push his weight up off the counter with one hand.

Shifting his weight back, Chris picks Sebastian up off the floor, and groans as Sebastian gets one leg over each of his hips.

“Chris,” Sebastian manages, voice ragged. He holds onto the back of Chris’s head with one hand and presses their mouths together.

Chris hasn’t been in Sebastian’s bedroom yet, but he knows where it is. The apartment is still mostly dark - just the streetlights lighting it up from outside - but it’s just illuminated enough to not bump into any furniture as Chris walks them both towards the bed. On the way there, Sebastian manages to get Chris’s shirt unbuttoned.

The bedroom door flies open and slams into the hard plaster wall behind it as they stumble through. Chris kisses back harder as he feels Sebastian’s hands on his bare chest, palms sliding over whatever they can get at.

Before they make it to the bed, Chris sets Sebastian down on the dresser, and pulls away just long enough to get his own shirt off.

“Yeah,” Sebastian says into his mouth, helping Chris when he gets one hand stuck in the cuff.

Chris stands there, shirtless and kissing Sebastian, as Sebastian feels him up, hands sliding from chest to belly to back and then down into the front of his pants.

“I gotta,” Chris manages, getting pulled back into another kiss before he leans back and gets a look down at Sebastian’s body, clothes rumpled with the way Chris has been treating them. Out of breath, Chris raises his eyebrows and pants, “I gotta get you out of these.”

Laughing, Sebastian slides off the edge of the dresser and kicks his shoes off. Chris helps him with his shirt, too, and jesus, Sebastian is beautiful everywhere.

“Take your pants off,” Sebastian mouths, lips moving against the curves of Chris’s, driving him insane.

Chris ducks close for another kiss, and lets Sebastian unzip the fly of his jeans as they shuffle over to the bed.

“Fuck,” Chris swears, unable to stop himself as he runs a hand through Sebastian’s hair and looks down at his body, standing there in low-riding pants like it’s just another day. “Jesus, Seb. Look at you.”

Sebastian smiles and shakes his head, steps close and starts pushing Chris’s jeans down over his hips as he whispers, “I’m looking at you.”

It’s hard to know what to say to that. Chris can’t help the noise that comes out of his mouth, soft and unsteady sounding, as he looks at Sebastian’s face. Sebastian is concentrating, eyebrows drawn and lip bitten, as he watches his own hands pushing Chris’s jeans down.

Chris reels back to life and gets himself the rest of the way out of his own jeans, then even manages to remember to kick his shoes off before he tries to get his feet out.

As Chris sits down on the edge of Sebastian’s bed, Sebastian crawls onto his lap, knees dipping into the mattress.

“Do you have,” Chris starts, going breathless when Sebastian palms him through his underwear.

Nodding, Sebastian stretches to the side, and reaches one arm out until he’s just a long line of tanned skin and flexing muscle that Chris wants to press his mouth all over. Chris watches, thoughts going completely haywire, as Sebastian snags a condom and lube, and then settles back on Chris’s thighs.

“It’s been a while,” Sebastian says against his mouth, before they’re kissing again.

They kiss and kiss and kiss, and then Chris gets a second to breathe out, “Me too.”

“Bad joke,” Sebastian laughs, cutting himself off to make a noise when Chris rubs at his dick.

It takes them a minute to navigate into better positions: Sebastian laid out on the bed, with Chris on top of him. Chris takes the opportunity to get Sebastian’s underwear off, too. Stretched out like this, Sebastian’s legs are so long that one of his feet are near Chris’s ear as Chris untangles the CKs from around his ankle, and tosses them to the floor.

“Better,” Chris reviews, repositioning Sebastian’s legs with a hand under either thigh until he can fit himself between them.

Underneath him, Sebastian adjusts his naked hips against the sheets, and echoes, “Yeah.”

Chris, now distracted by the never-ending stretch of Sebastian’s body, licks his lips and runs his palms up and down Sebastian’s calves. He looks at Sebastian’s hips and how they jut out from the rest of his muscles. Oh, god. Oh god Chris wants to hold onto those when they fuck.

He stays there, content to watch Sebastian’s body breathe and flex, until Sebastian kickstarts him back to life by handing over the lube.

“Thanks,” Chris says, dumb and at a loss for words as he kicks out of his underwear.

It’s been a long time since he’s done this, but he’s never been happier to dive back into an old skill.

Sebastian tugs Chris back down by the shoulder for a kiss as Chris fumbles the lube open, operating blindly. Chris kisses back and kisses back and kisses back until he has to pull away to concentrate on what he’s doing - if Sebastian keeps kissing him like that, Chris will lay here all night and take every one.

“Do it,” Sebastian pants, head heavy on the pillow as he looks up at Chris and grinds his hips against nothing. “Please.”

“Just because you said please,” Chris manages, trying to tease but just sounding breathless and lost instead.

He settles in with his mouth on Sebastian’s neck, and his hard-on along the length of Sebastian’s hip.

“Fuck,” Chris swears, stomach muscles reflexively tightening in desperation as he slides his hand past Sebastian’s thigh. Oh, god. Chris has never wanted anything more than he wants this. Panting into the already hot skin of Sebastian’s neck, Chris grinds his dick into Sebastian’s hip, and then makes his move.

When Chris’s thumb slides down and then forward, into Sebastian’s ass, Chris swears his hearing whites out for a second. He looks down at Sebastian’s face, stunned, and watches the way that Sebastian’s already closed eyes tighten even more. Sebastian gasps, mouth dropping half open, and then groans roughly as he swivels his hips against Chris’s hand, wanting more.

“Do it,” he says, words jerky, punctuated with short, sharp breaths. “Do that.”

Chris doesn’t know if he’d be able to stop if he tried. Swallowing tight against the urge to jerk off all over Sebastian’s stomach, Chris buries his face in Sebastian’s hair and switches to his pointer and middle fingers. When he sinks both in, Sebastian tightens his grip around Chris’s shoulder muscle, and pushes back, trying to fuck Chris’s fingers.

With one hand busy, Chris reaches his free hand out for the lube, and gets it clicked open.

“Here,” he manages, voice rough as he nudges Sebastian’s face with his forehead.

Sebastian gets his eyes open, but it looks like it’s a struggle. They keep rolling back, trying to close whenever Chris gets him with a good angle. Chris kisses down the side of Sebastian’s face and waits for Sebastian to get himself together long enough to hold his palm out; when he does, Chris puts some lube in it. Then he rolls the condom on with one hand.

“Okay,” Chris gasps, forehead dropping against the curve of Sebastian’s shoulder as Sebastian gives him a quick, lubey handjob.

It’s all instinctive after that. Chris settles back, both hands trailing down from his pelvis to the base of his dick as he makes sure the condom is on properly. As Sebastian gets himself comfortable against the pillows, Chris watches and shuffles forward, settling himself between Sebastian’s knees.

When Chris butts the head of his cock against Sebastian’s ass, all Sebastian manages is a breathless, “Chris.”

Licking his lips - trying to keep himself together - Chris starts to ease himself forward, leg muscles twitching against the urge to push his hips all the way down and in.

“Fuck - oh - god,” Sebastian pants, one hand squeezing helplessly at Chris’s side. “Fuck - Chris, yes.”

Chris leans down and kisses the side of Sebastian’s face. He’s breathing heavy as he rolls his hips more and more, sinking the entire length of his cock in. Sebastian is alternating between grabbing at the back of Chris’s head to keep him close, and working his own hips up off the mattress, trying to get Chris deeper.

By the time they’re properly fucking, Chris is sure this is going to end in a co-aneurysm.

“Jesus, Seb. Sweetheart,” Chris pants, at a loss.

He leans his upper body forward until he can fall onto his elbows, and then settles with one on either side of Sebastian’s head, each one tucked safe against Sebastian’s shoulders. This new angle allows him to roll his hips deeper, get more leverage.

Underneath Chris, Sebastian has gone from desperate to dick-stoned, eyes glassy and cheeks flushed.

When Chris feels like he’s about to die, he drops his head forward and tucks his face into the stubbly line of Sebastian’s jaw.

Sebastian tilts his head automatically, mouthing at Chris’s cheek and ear as they continue to fuck. Sebastian’s voice gets rougher and rougher, noises breathless and wild until he’s panting and tightening up and grabbing at the back of Chris’s neck with one hand.

“Fuck,” Sebastian swears, completely out of breath as Chris jerks him off until he's coming, and then fucks him through it. 

Every time Chris gets him deep, Sebastian’s entire body shivers, and his thighs shake on either side of Chris’s hips. Chris wraps his arms tighter around Sebastian, wrists crossed under Sebastian’s head, and drops forward, mouthing against Sebastian’s jaw as he speeds his thrusts up, knowing he’s about to come.

He tries to say something - Sebastian’s name - when he comes, but he doesn’t get the chance. His orgasm creeps through him and then sets in in full shocks, leaving him speechless as he jerks, muscles seizing and releasing with no rhythm. When Sebastian squeezes around him, Chris doesn’t know if he’ll make it to morning.

When they’re both done, Chris collapses directly on top of Sebastian’s body.

Sebastian wraps his arms tightly around the back of Chris’s neck, holding on tight as they lay in the dark, quiet and alone.

~

They fall asleep for an hour - Chris isn’t sure exactly how long - but he wakes up with a start.

“Fuck,” he swears, voice rough and fucked out as Sebastian stirs on the mattress beside him.

Chris looks down at himself: naked, with Sebastian’s bedsheets barely pulled up to his thighs, and swallows. Then he turns his head and looks at Sebastian, already awake and watching.

“You should go,” Sebastian murmurs, soft, blinking slow.

His fingers curl against the sheets, and then he stretches to reach for Chris’s hand. Chris watches as Sebastian intertwines their fingers against the sheets - dark blue, the opposite of the white set on Chris’s bed at home - and manages a crooked, shaky smile.

“I should,” Chris echoes softly, rubbing his thumb against the back of Sebastian’s hand.

~

Just after 1:30, Chris gets himself out the door and on his way home.

They kiss the whole way from Sebastian’s bed to the front door. Chris laughs, sheepish at himself for needing it so much, but doesn’t hesitate to stick his foot in the door before Sebastian has a chance to close it, just so they can kiss through the gap.

By the time he gets home, it’s dead quiet. The house is still, aside from Dodger, who is the one to greet Chris at the door. Chris shushes the dog and toes off his shoes. He forgot his socks at Sebastian’s. He’s exhausted. His eyes are rough feeling and tired, and that alone is confirmation that he’ll be paying for tonight come morning.

He means to go upstairs and shower - he does. But he sits down on the couch - just for a minute - and rests his eyes.

The next thing Chris realizes, he’s awake and daylight is streaming through the windows behind him.

In the kitchen, Chris hears Peyton’s giggly laugh, and the sound of the fridge sealing shut as someone swings the door closed. It’s breakfast. Chris blinks and looks down at himself: he fell asleep with all his clothes on, he’s even still wearing his jeans. With a yawn, he rubs at his face with both hands, and leans forward.

“Ugh,” he sighs to the floor, trying to blink himself awake.

Without giving himself a chance to lay back down, Chris pushes up off the couch, and starts a slow shuffle into the kitchen.

He’s barely in the doorway when Peyton clocks him from the table and shouts, “Daddy’s awake!”

Amy looks over at him immediately, gaze snapping up from where she’s cutting half an avocado into pieces.

“Morning,” Chris starts, but then cuts himself off to cough and clear his throat. His voice is rough - fucked out - and Chris finds himself looking over at Amy again as he snaps his mouth closed. She carefully places her avocado chunks in the blender, and then turns back to the fridge.

As the kids chorus, “Morning daddy!”, Chris leans over each of them to smack a kiss to both their cheeks.

“How was Scott?” Amy asks, voice carefully tempered. She sits the lid on the top of her blender, and then leans her weight forward, pressing it down with both hands. “You guys get a lot done?”

Scratching at the back of his head - flattening his bed hair down - Chris nods, and makes his way to the island.

“Yeah,” he replies, trying to sound confident as he steals a slice of banana. He watches Amy’s profile as she blends her smoothie up, eyes locked on the contents of the blender. Chris waits until it’s done making a racket before he adds, “I’ll be able to leave early for our reservations for sure.”

At that, her gaze cuts to the side. She pauses - and it’s barely noticeable, but Chris has noticed every minute movement of her face since the day they met - and then turns around, facing him.

“That’s great,” she smiles, eyes crinkling up at the corners with how happy she is.

Chris goes cross-eyed watching her as she leans up, pressing their mouths together, short and sharp. It’s a kiss, but it’s barely a kiss, just lips on lips and nothing more than that.

When it’s over, Chris bumbles out a, “What?”

“Go have a shower,” she tells him, before the word is even out of his mouth. “You stink.”

Chris runs hot and cold at the same time. He stares at her, stunned, as she turns back to her smoothie. Clearing his throat again - and desperately trying to regain his footing - he curls his fingers against the cool granite of the kitchen island, and watches as Amy takes her freshly poured smoothie over to the table.

There’s a new, genuine smile on her face as she runs her fingers through Austin’s hair, and then pulls out a chair to sit beside him.

~

It isn’t until Chris checks his messages that he realizes what happened.

 _You’re my brother and I love you,_ Scott’s text says. _But if you pull me into this again, I’ll kill you myself._

Scott’s attached a screenshot that shows Amy, late last night, texting to say Chris isn’t answering her calls.

It’s unlike him. It’s out of character. Chris knows all that.

There’s also a ten minute gap between replies, where Scott says, _What?_ And then, _I’m not sure, Amy. I’m sorry._

Chris presses his phone to his face, and grimaces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO I'm 99% sure I'm shadowbanned on tumblr, so if you tag me without a response there, I'M SORRY. I didn't see it!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOMEWRECKER IS BACK

When Chris stumbles into work an hour later, he’s still hollow with shock.

“Wow - hey,” he bumbles, door thunking into the curve of his shoulder as he comes to an abrupt stop. Across the room, Sebastian and Elizabeth both look up from where they’re standing behind her desk. Chris gets the door closed behind himself, and exclaims, “You’re early!”

Elizabeth laughs, “That’s what I said!” as she throws one hand up, and pivots around to look up at Sebastian’s face.

“I’m mysterious,” Sebastian explains, matter of fact, as he looks back at her face from about six inches away. As Chris is slowly remembering how to put one foot in front of the other, Sebastian looks over at him and grins, “I actually have a meeting at ten. Very important business.”

Confused, Chris steps up to Elizabeth’s desk, and rests both forearms on the high part.

“Sounds scary,” he reviews, raising his eyebrows.

“Terrifying,” Sebastian promises, nose wrinkling up as he really sells it. Jesus, Chris thinks, now that he and Sebastian are so close, he can’t help but look at him. Sebastian has had a shower, but his hair is still a mess - five o’clock shadow on his jaw and chin, and just a little bit of beard burn where Chris got him on the side of the neck. Chris bites his lip. “You’d definitely throw up all over your shoes.”

That makes Elizabeth cackle, clapping her hands a little as she flops back in her chair and looks up at Chris.

“You should have a comedy routine,” Chris finally manages, squinting back. There’s no venom to it, though, and Sebastian knows it, laughing to himself as he picks up this morning’s collection of junk mail and envelopes.

“Playa Haters Ball,” he says by way of explanation, handing the little stack over.

Sebastian opens his mouth and looks like he’s about to say something else, but then the door bangs open again.

All three of them turn to look, stunned, as Scott burns his way across the floor.

“You,” he announces, pointing an aggressive finger at Chris. “Now.”

He doesn’t stop for banter or a smile. In fact, he doesn’t say a single word to Sebastian or Elizabeth before he walks straight through to the back.

Elizabeth grimaces, forehead wrinkling up as she looks over at Chris with a what-do-we-do expression.

“Jesus,” Chris sighs, palming his face.

Handing the mail back to Sebastian, he turns and follows after Scott.

~

Scott is in the conference room by the time Chris catches up to him.

Taking a deep breath, Chris swallows, fights the sudden urge to perform a hail mary beneath the door frame, and steps into the room. It’s cold as ice on the other side, and Chris isn’t talking about the temperature.

“Listen,” Chris sighs, as the door clicks shut behind them.

He wishes this was one more performance Sebastian could take over.

“You listen first,” Scott interrupts, blue gaze steady. Chris has never been intimidated by his brother, but jesus, this morning is a hell of a time to start. “I don’t know why you’re doing this. It’s not you, Chris. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re better than that.”

With a sigh, Chris takes a hesitant seat, and says, “It’s not what you think.”

Scott sends a truly scathing ‘bitch, please’ look Chris’s way, and counters with a patient, “Tell me what it is, then.”

“I thought you wanted to say things,” Chris grumbles, unable to stop himself from being defensive. He always thought he wouldn’t be dumb enough to provoke a lawyer, yet here he is.

They get a split second to frown at each other before Scott replies.

“You’re making a mistake,” he starts, raising both eyebrows. “I’m saying that as your brother, not your lawyer. Wherever you were last night? Whoever you were with? It’s going to ruin your life. You get that, right? Do you hear what I’m saying? Forget about your marriage for a second. You’re going to fuck your kids up. You’re going to fuck your business up.”

Austin and Peyton are a sore spot that Chris hasn’t tried pressing on yet. Scott bringing them into this conversation stings.

“You don’t know everything about everything, man,” Chris manages, rubbing at his chest with one hand.

This conversation - and the expression on Scott’s face - is giving him heartburn.

“I’m trying my best to understand, homie,” Scott replies, shaking his head. “But all I see is an idiot who looks a lot like dad.”

“Jesus, Scott,” Chris fires back, grimacing so hard in Scott’s direction his eyes close. “Don’t give me that bullshit. Dad leaving has nothing to do with this. I didn’t - I wasn’t. I never went out looking for anyone.”

Scott snorts, rolls his eyes, and leans back in his chair.

“Yeah, sure. Your personality is just that good,” he snaps, sour. “Guess it all depends on where you’re standing.”

Heart pounding, Chris shakes his head, and tries not to say something he knows he’ll regret.

“I have shit to do,” he says quietly, eyes a little bit glassy despite himself. “Can I go back to my job now?”

Scott frowns, the edges of his mouth turning down so abruptly that Chris, for one horrifying moment, thinks his little brother is about to cry. But he swallows, and it levels out, and then Scott just looks at him - really looks at him - gaze flickering back and forth between about ten different points on Chris’s face.

Like he’s looking for something familiar in this new person he’s never met before.

“Yeah,” he finally sighs, hard expression suddenly fading into something tired, weary. “Yeah, we’re done. I’ll see you next week.”

With the sudden bite of an electric shock, Chris realizes he has changed his relationship with his brother forever. Chris has severed one of the hundred thousand strings that hold he and his brother together, and he did it with the single-handed precision of someone only thinking about themselves.

Chris thinks about when he and Scott were kids, two years apart, just like Austin and Peyton. He thinks about fighting over the television remote and getting into petty arguments, kid stuff. He thinks about Scott being proud of him on his wedding day, and on the night Austin was born. Life-changing stuff.

He doesn’t know what it looked like, but Chris is selfishly grateful he was not there to see Scott’s face when he found out.

For the first time in his life, Chris realizes that he doesn’t want his children to be like him.

“Scott, listen…” he starts, before trailing off. Chris doesn’t know what to say next - he isn’t expecting anything from Scott - but his brother looks at him, anyways. With such a small window of opportunity, Chris grits his teeth together, and says, “I’m sorry, man. We don’t see things the same way, and I wish we did.”

“No you don’t,” Scott counters easily, back up on his feet. “You just don’t want to feel as bad as you do right now.”

Chris doesn’t know what to say to that. He sits there, with his face in one hand, and listens to Scott walk away.

~

After debating sending Scott a text for ten minutes, Chris walks across the hall to the kitchen, and makes himself a coffee.

Elizabeth is already at the counter, dipping a tea bag in a mug full of hot water and studying him from the corner of her gaze.

“Are you okay?” she asks, breaking the silence as Chris reaches up to pull a mug out of the cupboard.

Forcing a smile, Chris turns his head, catches her eye, and smiles.

“Just family stuff,” he lies, reaching for the coffee pot handle. He has a snap-flash to last night: pushing Sebastian’s body up against the kitchen counter, arms around his waist, fingers tangled as they fumbled to get the flowers Chris gave him into water. Chris blinks, and the vision is gone. “I’m fine. Promise.”

Chris hopes his face doesn’t betray his body, and show how haunted he feels by the sudden flood of memories.

“Well,” Elizabeth says carefully, half of her mouth lifting in a smile. “I’m here if you need me.”

Nodding, Chris gives her another look, and says, a little too quiet, “Thanks.”

After that, Chris makes his way across the office and to his desk. The open plan concept seemed like a good idea before he started a relationship with someone who wasn’t his wife. The lack of separating walls does nothing to ease the weight of his web of lies, and Chris would truly kill for just a little bit of privacy.

Unsurprisingly, Paul and Mackie haven’t rolled in yet. Paul is a mid-morning guy, and Mackie would never set one foot in the door a minute before 9:45, so the entire work area is still dark. The only exception is the one little desk lamp Sebastian has switched on in their corner.

The familiarity of it makes Chris smile. Sebastian’s monitor has his usual word of the day screensaver, he’s left his bag on his seat, and he has a Starbucks coffee waiting.

Shaking his head - and trying to stop himself from smiling too much - Chris steps up to his own desk, and sets his mug down before he spills it. As the cheap porcelain clunks against the old wooden top, Chris surprises himself and lets out the soft breath of a laugh when he realizes Sebastian got Starbucks for him, too.

Grinning, Chris reaches for the cup, and turns it around so he can see how they spelled Sebastian’s name this time. He cracks up as he reads the loopy, cursive writing that says SABASTON. So close, but so far. As he turns the cup back, he realizes that there’s a sticky note stuck to the desk underneath him.

He is not a sticky note guy. They stress him out. This is definitely contraband from Elizabeth’s stash.

Unsticking the tiny note from underneath the cup, Chris reaches to turn his lamp on, and reads it:

_You should check your very BUSY business calendar._

Chris smiles a little more, the corner of his mouth tugging his lips into a grin before he can do anything to stop it. He reads the note from Sebastian one last time, and then crumples it into a ball, and opens up his laptop.

He doesn’t even need to open his calendar up before a little prompt box pops into the center of his screen.

_Calendar event request_   
_Sebastian Stan_   
_Location: CONF ROOM_   
_Time: 10AM_   
_Notes: Business meeting_

Without thinking, Chris hits _YES_ , and can’t help laughing when Sebastian’s phone, sitting on top of his bag, lights up and vibrates with notification of Chris’s acceptance.

~

At 10:01, Chris makes his way back down the hall to the conference room.

He gives the door one customary knock before pushing it open, and stepping inside.

“Oh good,” Sebastian grins, as Chris shuts the door behind himself.

It’s like walking into a completely different universe than the one he left after Scott’s visit. If the sun could shine out of a closed off space, it would be from wherever Sebastian is.

“Hey,” Chris can’t help but smile, as Sebastian pushes away from the edge of the table, and closes the distance.

Sebastian tugs Chris forward by the belly of his t-shirt and laughs, “You got my note.”

“I got your note,” Chris confirms softly, both hands going to Sebastian’s waist. He curls his fingers into the warmth there. “And your invite.”

“Like I said. Very important business,” Sebastian murmurs back, lips brushing against Chris’s before they kiss. It’s short and silly, but there’s heat underneath it, too, and that makes Chris flush under the collar of his shirt. He rubs his thumbs back and forth along the sides of Sebastian’s belly, and steps closer.

They stand there, kissing for a few long moments, until Chris tugs himself away an inch to ask, “Is this actually a real meeting?”

“No,” Sebastian laughs, fingers brushing through Chris’s hair as he looks back, fond.

“Okay,” Chris replies quietly, laughing at himself a little as he leans back in and kisses his way down Sebastian’s neck. He buries his nose against Sebastian’s shoulder, where it’s warm and safe, and closes his eyes. “Just making sure.”

~

It’s Valentine’s Day, and Chris is sitting in the back seat of an Uber with his wife.

“How long do we have the sitter for?” he asks, making small talk as they stop at the first in a series of red lights.

Amy doesn’t look up from her phone as she replies, “Til nine.”

“Ah. School night?” Chris asks, frowning at nothing in particular as he twists his wrist and tugs the cuff of his suit jacket up until he can see his watch.

With a shrug, Amy fires off a text or an email, and then looks over at him to state, blank faced, “It’s a weeknight.”

Right. Right, that makes sense. Chris looks back at her, mouth open, and finally manages a stilted, “That’s great.”

“Yeah,” Amy agrees, barely looking at him.

Closing his mouth - shut the fuck up, Chris - Chris looks back out at the road as they start moving again. He accidentally catches the Uber driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and feels his gut drop when the driver gives him the “whatever you did, you fucked up good” eyebrow raise.

This guy doesn’t even know the half of it.

The rest of their Valentine’s dinner goes the same. Strange, stilted conversation in-between Chris’s stumbling and misguided attempts to navigate the minefield he’s led them into. Amy alternates between looking at him sadly, and not looking at him at all.

Neither make an attempt to bring up what happened in the kitchen. Up until tonight, there’s always been something else to serve as a distraction: the kids, Chris being at work, Amy’s yoga classes. There’s always been a reason to not bring it up. But tonight, it’s just them. With a bottle of wine and ten years of a loving marriage between them, Chris still finds he doesn’t know what to say.

He looks at Amy, and he looks at Amy’s engagement ring, and he looks at Amy’s tight smile as she orders her food and politely hands the menu back up to the waitress.

It’s painfully obvious they’re both side-stepping around the conversation. In the movies there are screaming fights and exploding vases and tears. In the few days that Amy has known, it’s been a stand-off. For a couple who have never had a real fight, infidelity is a hell of a place to start.

Chris pulses a smile when the waitress looks at him next. He orders the steak.

~

In March, Amy goes away for a girls long weekend.

“Hey, you should come over for dinner tomorrow,” Chris says, in the middle of putting together the final details on a new presentation that includes progress on Paul’s latest developmental work. “It’s just me and the kids until Sunday.”

Sebastian gives him a soft, weary smile, and they share one last long look before getting back down to business.

It’s that moment that leads Chris here, to this strange, new Saturday afternoon. The kids are watching South Park - a foolproof technique that gets Chris a few minutes to himself - and eating directly from the cereal box. On the couch, Chris is trying to google something he can reasonably put together for dinner.

With a grimace, Chris tries to get away from Pinterest for the thousandth time today, and close the box that asks him to log in with Facebook.

“Whatcha looking at, daddy?” Peyton shouts, jumping across the couch cushions to land at his hip and yell her query directly into his ear.

Chris brings one hand up automatically, trying to stop or at least steady her jerky movements.

Without looking away from his phone, he knots his eyebrows and answers, “It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise!” she screams, bouncing off the couch and almost colliding with the coffee table.

Chris gives her a distracted, “Yes,” and tries a new search: easy fancy dinner recipe.

He’s not exactly a connoisseur when it comes to things like ingredients and proper preparation. It couldn’t be THAT hard, though. Put some stuff with some other stuff, and make it hot.

Two hours later, Chris is fumbling his way through chopping up some carrots when Sebastian arrives. The doorbell ringing sends both kids - and the dog - off the deep end, and, by the time Chris gets to the door, he’s out of breath, one side of his t-shirt is stretched from Peyton hanging off of it, and he’s got Austin’s confiscated Nerf gun in one hand.

“Hey,” Chris breathes, breaking into a smile anyway when he sees Sebastian right there on the stoop.

Sebastian is already smiling back, both hands in his leather jacket pockets.

“Is this a bad time?” he jokes, as he makes a show out of eyeing Chris’s disheveled appearance. Pointing one finger over his shoulder, he raises an eyebrow and offers an, “I can come back later.”

Laughing, Chris tosses the Nerf gun behind the door, and manages a gentle, “Shut up. Come in.”

“Thanks,” Sebastian grins, arm brushing up against Chris’s as he steps past.

Chris grins back, helps Sebastian out of his jacket, and leads him into the living room.

“Guys,” Chris announces, as they walk through the doorway. Austin is still sitting where Chris left him, for once: on the timeout end of the couch, with both arms crossed over his chest and a gigantic frown on his face. Peyton is suspiciously missing, but then she comes back around the corner from the kitchen with a juice box. Chris scratches behind one ear, and says, “Say hi to Sebastian.”

“SEBBY,” Peyton exclaims, immediately running over to the coffee table. She whips back around with a dramatic, “LOOK.”

Laughing, Sebastian heads over to check out the coloring book Peyton wants to show off. Chris, on the other hand, leaves them to it, and returns to the kitchen to crack a beer. He’s been chopping up vegetables for fifteen minutes and he’s got a mediocre pile to show for it.

He’s alternating between taking a sip of his much earned beer, and haphazardly arranging veggies in a glass baking dish, when Sebastian comes in.

“Hey,” Chris grins, looking up immediately. “Sorry, this is taking me about three times longer than it should.”

With a little laugh and a smile, Sebastian props himself up on a kitchen stool, and reaches for a beer.

“This is all new to me,” he reviews, popping the cap off his beer. “It looks great.”

Letting out a nervous exhale, Chris laughs and warns, “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

~

Once Sebastian is there, making the food seems less difficult.

Chris is so distracted with talking to him, he forgets to obsess over every little thing he’s doing. He stands there and jokes around and sips his beer and listens to Sebastian’s story about the walk over, and then all of a sudden, the timer is going off and the oven is beeping.

“Jeez,” Chris manages, awkwardly getting the pans out of the oven with two little towels for his oven mitts.

Sebastian watches, fully entertained, and asks, “Need some help?”

“Bam,” Chris announces, as he drops the pan down on the counter a little harder than he meant to. “Just like Emeril.”

Cracking up some more, Sebastian shakes his head, and then gets up to help Chris plate their food. Between the two of them, it’s not that long until they’re done.

“Guys!” Chris yells, belatedly trying to cut up both plates of chicken at the same time. “Dinner!”

There’s a momentary argument in the other room while they work out the details on who gets to pause the show. Peyton comes around the corner first, a little rumpled from either a quick fight or an accidental nap - sometimes it’s hard to say for sure. Austin trails along behind her.

“What!” he exclaims, when he spots the plates in Chris’s hands. “Mommy said we’d get pizza!”

That’s all it takes for Peyton to get offended on her brother’s behalf. She raises her eyebrows and looks at Chris, betrayed.

“Daddy! I want pizza!” she agrees. Loudly.

Chris sets their plastic plates down on the table, and steps around the dog. Before he can get a NOBODY’S HAVING PIZZA in edgewise, Sebastian raises his eyebrows and says, “This is better than pizza! Promise.”

In the wake of such a bold faced lie, Sebastian receives two salty faces from Chris’s children.

The cool reception doesn’t surprise Chris, but Sebastian cracking up does.

“Hey!” Austin exclaims, grimace deepening when he realizes Sebastian is laughing at him. “I’m serious!”

Unable to keep a straight face, Chris wobbles back a smile, and watches as Peyton’s saltiness turns to weariness in the face of her brother’s adversary. Chris sees her sway between siding with her brother, and giving into her need to perform for the open audience she’s found in Sebastian.

Ultimately, she gives Chris a narrow-eyed glare of betrayal, and then succumbs to reaching for her food.

“These aren’t nuggets,” she complains.

Beside her, Austin has given up the fight, and surrendered under the weight of his favorite vegetable.

“Nope,” Chris agrees, kicking out his chair by the leg. Nudging Austin’s shoulder, he asks, “Good?”

Austin shrugs one shoulder, asparagus jammed three inches deep into one side of his cheek.

In the never-ending war on dinnertime battles, that is good enough for Chris. He’ll accept that white flag, even if it isn’t so much giving up as it is giving in. 

The four of them eat quietly for a few minutes - with no arguments or physical violence from the kids - and Chris realizes he really, actually didn’t do a bad job. The recipe he picked wasn’t exactly a rocket launch series of instructions to follow, but he was definitely banking on the possibility of ordering pizza as a back-up.

“This is really great,” Sebastian says seriously, eyebrows knotting as he lifts another bite of chicken and rice into his mouth.

Chris grins, and maybe even blushes a little.

“It’s just okay, daddy,” Peyton offers next, clearly aiming to keep Chris’s ego in line.

“Thanks, pal,” he replies, laughing when Sebastian cracks up.

~

Taking twenty minutes to get both kids into bed feels a little suspicious to Chris, but he isn’t about to kick a gift horse in the mouth.

“Close your eyes,” he says, hitting the lights. “Love you, buddy.”

Austin kicks his feet, untucking his blanket and top sheet from the bottom of the bed, and exclaims, “I’m not tired!!”

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Chris promises, already on his way to mostly closing the door. “Night, bud.”

For some reason Chris is not about to test, Austin doesn’t argue with him. Chris hangs out on the other side of the door for a couple of minutes - just in case - head down as he listens to Austin kick for a few more minutes, and then finally settle. When all is quiet, Chris peeks his head around the corner, and finds Austin passed out with one arm and leg off the bed.

“Alright,” he breathes to himself. “That works.”

Chris makes his way across the hall next, and inches Peyton’s bedroom door open.

“Peyton,” he frowns, when he realizes she’s not in her bed.

It takes a few minutes to make his way through all her usual hiding spots: under the bed, in the closet, behind her too big doll house. Chris’s grumpy grimace starts to edge into more of a nervous frown as he heads back out of her bedroom, checks the empty bathroom, and bounces down the stairs two at a time.

He’s peeling around the corner into the living room when he stops short, surprised.

“Hey, you’re back,” Sebastian whispers. He’s on the couch where Chris left him, except now Peyton is slumped over his chest, fast asleep with her pyjamas all twisted around her narrow torso. Raising both hands, Sebastian laughs nervously and stage whispers, “I didn’t know what to do!”

Chris can’t help laughing, relieved.

“Jeez, sweetheart,” he breathes, smiling at Peyton’s open mouth and messy hair. “I thought something bad happened for a second.”

Trying to shift underneath her, one hand braced on her back, Sebastian says, “Sorry - I didn’t want to wake her up.”

“I didn’t even hear her,” Chris laughs, making his way over to the couch. “Sneaky fuck. I’ll take her back to bed.”

With a little teamwork, they maneuver Peyton up and into Chris’s arms without incident. Chris moves slowly, trying not to wake her up as he sets her against one hip, and steadies a hand on her back. Just like when she was a baby.

“That okay?” Sebastian asks, still touching her socked foot.

Chris gingerly readjusts her weight, and nods, “Give me five minutes.”

It takes a minute for Chris to navigate his way upstairs, mostly because he can’t look down enough to see where his feet are going. Once he clears the top step, it’s just a short journey to her bedroom, where he lays her back down in the spot she made her jailbreak from, and tugs the blanket up over her shoulders.

“Night pal,” he whispers, bending down to give her forehead a kiss.

His journey back downstairs is much calmer than when he thought his youngest took off into the night.

Chris is headed in the direction of the living room when movement catches his eye through the kitchen doors. The pit of his stomach dips nervously, but then he realizes it’s just Sebastian, standing on the deck by himself as he has a cigarette.

Grabbing his jacket off the hallway coat rack, Chris adjusts his trajectory, and heads towards the deck.

“Hey,” he whispers, gently closing the kitchen door behind himself.

Sebastian glances back over one shoulder, lips already turning up into a smoky, teasing smile. His eyes are lit up by the string of white lights Amy hung around the porch beams last summer; Chris can’t help smiling back, when he sees that twinkle in Sebastian’s eye. He sets his jacket around Sebastian’s shoulders without a second thought to the cold.

“Thanks. Want one?” Sebastian asks quietly, voice rough, low, familiar.

Intimate.

Shaking his head, Chris leans his mouth against Sebastian’s shoulder. He lets his eyes close, slow, before he pulls away with the smell of his own aftershave familiar in his nose. Chris takes a deliberate step back, because if he doesn’t do it now he won’t be able to tonight, and then he mirrors Sebastian’s position, elbows rested against the railing.

Below them on the grass, Dodger is sniffing around, looking for a place to pee in the dark.

“Better not,” Chris smiles, shaking his head. “If I start again, I won’t be able to stop.”

On an exhale, Sebastian arches one eyebrow up and laughs, “Sure.”

“Hey pal,” Chris murmurs, drifting closer again. His ear brushes the collar of his own jacket as he leans close. “I don’t know who the bad influence is here, but it’s definitely one of us, and I don’t need any more vices.”

Sebastian laughs again, and then offers Chris a crooked, sarcastic smile.

“I don’t know about that,” he teases, and Chris grins wider.

They stay like that, buoyed by the dark, until Dodger trundles back up the wood stairs.

“You wanna watch a movie?” Chris asks, voice soft as he watches Sebastian stub out the butt of his cigarette in the ashtray.

With a yawn, Sebastian turns to follow Chris unthinkingly. As Chris holds the door open for him, he says, “Sure.”

Chris smiles, and waits for the dog, and then follows Sebastian into the living room.

~

They’re standing in the kitchen at 3:30, bleary eyed and exhausted.

“I should go home,” Sebastian murmurs, as Chris hugs him, pressing his face into Sebastian’s neck.

They watched a shitty thriller on Netflix. It was one of the worse movies Chris has seen in recent memory, but it gave him a good reason to continue sitting on the couch in the dark with Sebastian. Afterwards, they sat on the deck for a while in the cold, and Chris did a couple of quiet ukulele covers. Sebastian joined him for parts of El Scorcho this time, and they both cracked up when they tried to get through the final verse as a team.

Now they’re walking towards the front door, Chris after Sebastian, following him into the dark.

“My god, it’s way past my bedtime,” Sebastian yawns, rubbing at his face with one hand.

Chris watches him pull his shoes on, and then zip up his jacket.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” he murmurs, and then can’t help but lean in for a gentle kiss. It’s the first time they’ve kissed all night, and god, Chris just wants to touch Sebastian more. He wants to hold him around the waist and press his nose into his hair and feel Sebastian’s warm, familiar body against his.

Sebastian smiles at him, so tired, and then presses one more kiss to his mouth.

“Bye,” he whispers, one last soft smile before he ducks out the front door.

~

Chris is struck with a sudden case of vertigo come Monday morning.

“Seb is dating someone new!” Elizabeth exclaims, detouring from her usual ‘good morning.’ “He won’t give me the details!”

Blanking, Chris blurts out a startled, “Huh?” and tries to arrange his face in a way that does not say Guilt.

From the other side of her desk, Elizabeth laughs and leans back in her chair.

“I stalked his Instagram all weekend!” she exclaims, bare knees knocking together as she pushes her chair from side to side, a graceful rhythm that betrays the excited grin on her face. “I know it. Before you ask, no, I couldn’t find a picture - but I’ve got a sixth sense for this stuff! Seb’s got a new man.”

“Well…” Chris finally manages, awkwardly avoiding eye contact as he shuffles past her. “Keep up the good fight, I guess.”

With a beautiful laugh, she calls, “You’re no fun!” to his tired, retreating back.

That is actually untrue - Chris is tons of fun.

But jesus, she has no idea about the ball of twine she’s about to unravel.

~

On Chris’s desk, beside his computer mouse and notebook, sits a fresh coffee with SABASTAIN written on the side.

~

Spring blooms quickly.

Ice turns to rain turns to grey mornings and sharp, sunny afternoons. The days become punctuated by the flowers that begin to bloom in Central Park, and the seasonal joggers that re-emerge in their neon colors after six months of hibernation.

Amy’s birthday comes at the end of April. Chris buys her a nice piece of jewelry and takes her on a nice dinner date, and then falls asleep on their nice couch while she’s upstairs, changing out of her nice cocktail dress. When he eventually snorts himself awake in the early hours of the next morning, the skies are drizzly and dim, and he’s still wearing his suit.

The quilt remains folded at the end of the couch.

It’s the following week that Chris attends a daddy-daughter dance, organized by the well-meaning moms behind Peyton’s gymnastics team. He starts driving Austin to flag football every Saturday morning. Usually Sebastian walks down to the park and joins Chris with coffee, but it’s never on a regular schedule, and never long enough for Austin to spot them together.

At work, Sebastian and Mackie strike up a friendship. Mackie does improv on the weekends, and even though Sebastian is a drama guy, they bond over their shared love of the fine arts. Chris listens to a lot of late afternoon banter about stage shows, and makes jokes every time a reference goes over his head.

Development on the app keeps clunking along. They haven’t launched the website yet - the official hard launch isn’t scheduled until summer - but Sebastian does a good job at keeping their funding up, and Mackie gets to work on the first round of future advertisers.

Everyone goes out to dinner at least once a week. It isn’t weird that Sebastian and Chris eat together every day, at least when their two member club is broken up by either Elizabeth, Paul, or Mackie tagging along. They start sneaking breakfast together when they can, though, and when that happens, it’s only the two of them.

By the time May rolls around, it’s hard for Chris to wrap his head around the small amount of time he’s spent at home.

“I can’t stay,” he murmurs, kissing Sebastian again. His heart feels sore with the weight of affection as he laughs, watching Sebastian grab him by the hips to press their bodies together.

Nosing along the curve of Chris’s cheekbone, Sebastian teases, “I didn’t ask you to stay.”

“Oh yeah,” Chris counters, words easy, voice soft. “I guess that was implied or something.”

Laughing, Sebastian shakes his head - fond - and continues walking Chris out of his bedroom.

“I see you all day,” Sebastian smiles, as they make their way backwards across the living room. He’s still naked, and so far Chris isn’t doing much better. He’s only been able to get his underwear back on. “I don’t need to see you all the other times.”

“Liar,” Chris whispers, laughing when he feels Sebastian’s hands back on his bare skin. “I want to see you always.”

Sebastian doesn’t reply to that. He can’t help but give Chris a soft smile, though, and a slow shake of his head. If they were anyone else - if they could be any other couple out there in the world, just for a day - one of Sebastian’s gentle “oh, you” expressions would make innocent bystanders melt. Chris is sure of that.

He imagines they’d be the couple that people would say, “You guys - you make sense,” about.

The kinds of things everyone used to say about he and Amy.

“I’ll text you later, sweetheart,” Chris murmurs, resting his thumb against the dip underneath Sebastian’s lip. He kissed that stubbly spot just a little bit ago. He does it again, just in case he never gets another chance.

Sebastian rolls his eyes, a blush creeping up his cheekbones, and says, “Get out of here.”

It takes Chris a minute to get dressed, mostly because his clothes are scattered in a haphazard trail leading from the front door to Sebastian’s bed.

While Chris wiggles his ass back into his jeans, Sebastian shuffles off to the kitchen to make himself a coffee. Chris watches, because, jesus. How can he not? Sebastian is beautiful. He’s just standing at the counter, but he’s the best thing Chris has ever seen, with his hair all stuck up at the front but flat in the back from how Chris fucked him against the pillows.

Chris stands there, dazed. He watches the lines of Sebastian’s bare back soaking up the sun for so long, he forgets to leave.

When Sebastian glances back over one shoulder, curious, he notices Chris’s half-dressed form and laughs.

“Go,” he says, and it sounds strong, but Chris swears he sees Sebastian’s face storm over as he turns back to the counter.

Chris zips up his fly, and pretends to not hear the echoing clink of the glass booze bottle against the edge of Sebastian’s coffee mug. Instead, he tugs his shoes on, and darts across the apartment to smack one last kiss to the nape of Sebastian’s neck.

Sebastian doesn’t turn back, and Chris doesn’t stop, hurrying down the stairs before he can change his mind.

~

“Daddy!” Peyton yells, startling the shit out of Chris as she meets him inside the front door.

Smiling automatically, Chris kicks off his other shoe, and runs over to pick her up with a swing and a growl.

“Hey buddy,” he adds, smacking a kiss to her sticky cheek. She laughs hysterically, and buries herself in the crook of his shoulder.

Since the daddy-daughter thing, Peyton has been clingier than usual. She’s always been a daddy’s girl - the same way Austin has always gone to Amy - but it’s different lately. Chris is sure there’s a reason for her octopus routine, but he doesn’t know enough about kids to make heads or tails out of it. He’s sure his recent disappearing act doesn’t help.

In the living room, Austin spares Chris a curious glance before going back to his video game.

“Daddy, you look funny,” Peyton says, thoughtfully, as Chris sets her down on the couch first, and then drops in beside her.

Chris tries not to react to that. Kids are terrifying; intuitive, and scarily adept at clocking emotional landmines. Trying to keep up his best poker face, Chris smiles at her, and smoothes down the side of her dress.

“You look funny!” he parrots, dramatically raising his eyebrows.

Immediately in on the game, Peyton laughs hysterically and then counters, “No!”

“Yes,” Chris laughs back, tickling her sides until she gives in and flops down across his lap.

She stares up at his face, wide-eyed with happiness, and god, Chris is suddenly caught off-guard by how much she looks like Amy. The same eyes and mouth, every little piece of her, an echo of her mother.

“Yoooooooouuuuuuu look funny!!” she giggles, reaching up to jab her thumb into his chin.

Before Chris has a chance to counter, Amy wanders into the living room with her iPad in one hand. Even though she spares one glance in Chris’s direction, she doesn’t seem surprised to see him home.

“Hey,” he offers, one hand still on Peyton’s belly. “Your hair looks nice.”

Amy curls up in the arm chair, and offers him a flat smirk.

“Thanks,” she replies, “I got it cut a few days ago.”

Ouch. That was a swing and a miss. Chris offers her a small, uncertain smile anyways, fingers still curling into the scratchy fabric of Peyton’s mermaid dress, and watches as his wife opens her tablet case, and flips open an app. Chris doesn’t know what she does on that thing all day, but a small piece of him realizes that it isn’t really his business anymore.

“Daddy looks funny,” Peyton announces suddenly, digging the tip of her finger into his chin. Chris’s chest seizes in fear as he looks down at her. Her mouth is curved into a tentative smile, and her gaze follows the drag of her finger along the line of his jaw, and up across his cheek. She knots her eyebrows, and adds, “His eyes are happy, but his mouth is sad and small.”

Jesus, Chris’s face jerks before he can temper his reaction: he grimaces like he’s been hit with a two by four.

Out of habit, he looks over at Amy - stunned - and opens his mouth.

She’s staring back, eyes wide open. Surprised.

~

Chris won’t look back until a year later, but when he does, he’ll realize that was the day his marriage was officially over.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOMEWRECKER IS BACK
> 
> I don't know exactly when the next chapter will be along, but it won't be a month (hopefully).

_A month later_

Chris is sitting back on the bench after a truly obnoxious round of cheering, when someone sneaks into the empty spot beside him.

“Who’s winning?” Sebastian greets, handing a coffee over.

Genuinely surprised, Chris startles a laugh, and looks up at Sebastian. Sebastian’s hair is ruffling in the wind, and the bright blue skies overhead reflect in the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses. For a split second, Chris is so busy looking at Sebastian, he forgets to watch his kid.

“Well, the official line is, everyone's a winner,” he reports dutifully, accepting the coffee, and shuffling down the bench a few inches. “Unofficially, Austin’s team is five points ahead.”

Sebastian laughs, and then sets his coffee between his feet so he can clap his hands and cheer when Austin throws the ball.

“He’s doing good!” Sebastian reviews, folding his sunglasses and hanging them off the neck of his t-shirt. Without thinking, he gets comfortable, settling back and resting an elbow on Chris’s knee. It’s automatic - it’s a stupid mistake - it’s only a second before he realizes, and pulls away.

The grandparents to their left and the kid playing Nintendo to their right don’t seem to care, but hiding in plain sight is so normal these days, Chris barely registers the misstep.

Grinning, he narrows his gaze over at Sebastian, and teases, “You’re a real pro now, huh?”

“I’m very knowledgeable about sports,” Sebastian agrees, trying to warble back a smile. Without looking back over at Chris, he squints out at the field, and adds, “Some asshole I know makes me watch football every weekend.”

“He sounds like a winner,” Chris automatically counters, unable to stop himself as he zeroes in on the dip of Sebastian’s mouth. “A real good guy.”

Sebastian can’t keep a straight face, but he does manage to get out a cackled, “You wouldn’t say that if you knew him.”

“Hey!” Chris laughs, but doesn’t get any further before his attention snaps back to the game the second the ref blows their whistle. “Oh, come on!”

~

The next afternoon, Chris is out picking up lunch with Elizabeth.

Their conversation changes from personality types to the topic of Sebastian’s relationship status so fast, he gets whiplash.

“You’re lying! I don’t believe you don’t know anything,” she teases, as they wait at the pick-up counter. “He tells you everything.”

Without hesitation, Chris shakes his head, and uses his teeth to rip the paper wrapper off his drink straw.

“Not everything,” he shrugs.

Every time he lies, it gets a little bit easier. It’s a skill, and, like any other, the more you do it, the better you get.

“He dated Dallas for like, five minutes, and we met him,” she sighs, looking thoughtful. Chris watches as she leans her weight against the front of the pick-up counter, and taps her pointy nails on the varnish. Twisting her mouth up, she thinks for another second, and then admits, “I can’t put my finger on it this time.”

With a snort, Chris jams his straw through the plastic lid of his Thai tea.

“Maybe that’s the point,” he figures, before he can’t help but grimace, “Dallas. Look how well that turned out.”

That was… not the greatest era of Chris’s life.

“That was all you, I’m afraid,” she laughs, looking over at him. “If things went your way, I’m pretty sure Seb would be single forever.”

She actually doesn’t know how wrong she is about that, but Chris isn’t going to be the one to correct her.

“Maybe he likes this guy,” he shrugs, unable to look her in the eye. “Maybe it’s serious.”

Elizabeth doesn’t even flinch before she replies.

“It can’t be that serious,” she says. As someone from the kitchen emerges with an assortment of take-out bags that look approximately like how much Thai food they ordered, Elizabeth frowns over at him and adds, “Trust me, I’ve been the dirty little secret before, and this is bringing up a lot of weird memories.”

The food lady gets to the counter, and calls, “Order for Chris” before hoisting their bags up.

As he and Elizabeth step up to grab their food, she jokes, “I wasn’t a fully grown man at the time, but sneaky knows sneaky.”

“Where are you even getting this, anyway?” Chris asks, nodding his thanks to the lady as he and Elizabeth take over the food bag reins. They weigh about five hundred pounds each, like noodle based food always does. Trying not to be TOO interested, he adds, “Seb hasn’t said anything about… anything.”

Elizabeth waits for him to balance his drink and his share of the bags before heading for the door.

As they emerge back out into the sun, she looks at him and asks, “How honest do you want?”

“Embarrassingly,” he nods, confident.

Elizabeth laughs and then groans, and then screws up her face and steels herself and says, “I see a lot of myself in him. I dated a banker when I was way too young to be dating anyone. I like to think that’s the reason it took me three months to realize he was married.”

“Oh,” Chris blurts, totally caught off-guard and unable to stop his knee-jerk reaction. “Jesus, Elizabeth.”

With a sigh, she shrugs and squints at the horizon, “Yeah. He didn’t have kids, thank god.”

“Good. That’s - that’s good,” he fumbles, chest flushing.

As they wait at a Do Not Walk light, she digs her sunglasses out of the neckline of her dress, and slips them on.

“I know what that brand of insecurity looks like,” she shrugs, squinting at Chris through her lenses. “Maybe I’m projecting, but I see it in Seb, too. He’s blissed out one minute and grumpy the next. Hiding a relationship like that is the most satisfying thing you’ll ever do - and then it ruins your life.”

Chris bites back the urge to say, _You sound just like my brother_ , and shrugs.

“I don’t know, man. We’ve been busy with the last sprint,” he manages, fighting back against the sudden wave of nervousness in his voice. “He’s been burning himself out trying to get contracts signed before we launch… it might just be stress.”

“Maybe,” Elizabeth agrees, as they start walking again. “Or I’m right. I have like, a sixth sense for this kind of thing. His Instagram backs up my theory, too.”

Frowning, Chris feels genuinely in the dark this time as he asks, “What’s on his Instagram?”

“Let me find it,” she says, as they turn onto their office block. Chris falls silent as she turns her attention to her phone, his drifting to the easy late spring breeze, and the familiarity of their work neighborhood. A minute later, Elizabeth says, “Aha!” and hands her phone over.

With a nervous kick in his belly, Chris trades her phone for his drink, and squints down at the screen. 

There, in all its filtered Instagram glory, is a photo of the flowers Chris bought for Sebastian on the night of his play. The photo is dated around two months ago, and Sebastian has captioned it _When you’re too ghetto for a vase #coffeepot._

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Chris manages, awkwardly handing her phone back. “Maybe he got them for himself. Who buys flowers anymore, anyway?”

Looking at the picture, Elizabeth easily counters, “You.”

Chris has an instant flashback to Valentine’s Day. He asked Elizabeth to set up a flower delivery to his wife, because he was too busy doting on Sebastian to do it himself. The budget was a hundred bucks. Valentine’s Day was one of the very last nights he and his wife spent together.

“Well,” he stumbles, heart rate rising so fast, he hears his heart thudding alongside his ear drums. “I don’t count.”

Snorting, Elizabeth gives him a, “Yeah, yeah,” and clicks her phone off.

When they’re three storefronts down from Even, Sebastian unceremoniously pops through the office door with Mackie hot on his heels.

“Ahh, we thought we’d beat you!” he grins, holding one hand up to block the sun.

Elizabeth has moved on from the topic of Sebastian’s mysterious love life, and walks right past the two of them with a teasing, “Smoke fast!” over her shoulder.

~

Maybe he’s naive - Scott would say he’s naive - but there are a number of things over the course of Chris’s life that he’s been surprised to learn aren’t like they are in the movies.

The first time he kissed a girl. The first physical altercation he got into. The first house party he crashed in college.

On this side of letting the house of cards fall, he would add being unfaithful to that list.

In the movies, infidelity seems simple: someone cheats, and someone gets caught. There is revenge by the woman scorned, a reckoning to the man who stuck his dick where it didn’t belong, and long, scripted arguments full of “how could you do this to me - to us?” and “I’m sorry, baby.”

But, in Chris’s experience:

His first kiss was forgettable. He doesn’t remember her name.

His first fist fight was terrifying. He cried after.

His first house party was messy. He drank so much, he blacked out.

And, his most recently:

Cheating on his wife is easy.

In-between the crashing meteorites of Amy piecing things together, Chris stays in the periphery. He hides in the shadows, and he does it quietly, because he wants it all. He wants Amy to call him an asshole. He wants the shouting and the arguments, and the sudden electric pop of cleared air.

Chris wants her to be the one to make the decision: to be the bad guy, to kick him out on his ass, to ignore his tears and pleas of change.

He would run directly into Sebastian’s arms, and that would be it. Decision made.

But Amy isn’t a poorly written character in a movie. She’s his wife - she’s the woman he’s known longer than almost anyone else - and he should have known better.

Chris should have known she would dig her heels into the sand, and say: I’m not moving. You move.

And that’s what makes nights like these so much harder to cope. Chris knows that he isn’t going to get an easy out.

They’re in Sebastian’s apartment. It’s just the two of them, because it’s always just the two of them. There are no parts of their relationship that extend beyond these four walls. There are no double dates, no nights out, no dinner with friends. The macrocosm of their relationship stretches from the back window Sebastian always smokes out of, to the line of his front door.

At the start, it had been enough.

But tonight, in this new universe that is quiet and dark and sometimes lonely, Chris is drunk. Not tipsy, not buzzed. Drunk.

That’s why he says, “I love you.”

Sebastian doesn’t even flinch. He just runs his fingers through Chris’s hair, gentle, and murmurs, “No, you don’t.”

“Yes I do,” Chris counters, serious. He knots his eyebrows and adds, “From the moment I met you.”

For a split second, Sebastian looks like he might let Chris have it.

But that isn’t how they work - that isn’t how their relationship has ever worked - and as Sebastian props himself up on one elbow, he looks down at Chris’s face, and hesitates. Chris knows that whatever Sebastian sees in his expression - Amy, young and free, painted the way Chris described her in all of his stories - makes him smile, small and sad.

“I remember when you said that about your wife,” he whispers, looking at Chris one last time.

Chris watches the soft, stubbled underside of Sebastian’s jaw as Sebastian reaches for his drink, his lifeline. He listens to the clink of the heavy bourbon bottle as Sebastian pours himself another round - and that’s when Chris closes his eyes, scared - and lifts his head to press a slow, soft kiss to the curve of Sebastian’s arm.

“I knew I was going to marry Amy the night I met her,” Chris agrees, softly. He relaxes back against the arm of the couch, and watches Sebastian’s throat work as he takes a long gulp of his drink, knuckles buckling white against the glass. A buoy in the rough waters they’ve thrown themselves into. Without thinking, Chris admits, “I didn’t even remember your name.”

Sebastian grimaces, jerks forward, and almost drops his glass back onto the table in an attempt to set it down.

“I remembered everything about you,” Sebastian whispers, haunted. His voice cracks as he looks down at Chris’s face and adds, “I gave you my business card, but I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

That business card is where everything started. A beacon of light, unknowingly rescued from the pocket of his jeans.

“Amy saved that card from laundry day,” he murmurs, filling in the blanks. It was a mindless decision that Amy had made thousands of times before: habit.

Without hesitation, Sebastian leans their foreheads together, and smiles a little.

He says, “Thank god for Amy,” as Chris tilts his head, and presses a kiss to the curve of his jaw.

“Thank god for Amy,” Chris echoes, mouth still open against Sebastian’s skin. It’s a familiar testimony: the jingle that accompanies Chris’s adult life. Lost in memory, Chris follows Sebastian into a soft, barely there smile, and admits, “She used to tell me my head would fall off if she wasn’t there to keep it attached. I am who I am because of her.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian nods, thumb brushing along the curve of Chris’s cheekbone. “That’s the hard part.”

Chris swallows hard, eyebrows knotting, and smiles without showing his teeth. He’s proud of Amy’s involvement in his life.

It’s hard to imagine who he could have been without her. Maybe he would have stuck around Buffalo, waiting for something to stick. If he and Amy never met, it isn’t likely he would have moved to Harlem. He’d go home, probably, tail freshly between his legs, a college dropout. His mom would have let him sleep on the couch, and who knows what could’ve happened after that.

His future would be one big question mark, with neither Amy nor Sebastian there to light the way.

Letting his head thunk back against the arm of the sofa, Chris brushes his fingers through Sebastian’s hair, and looks up at the ceiling. He’s drunk and thoughtful. On his chest, Sebastian rests his cheek against Chris’s pec, and rubs his thumb back and forth beneath the hem of Chris’s shirt.

A minute later, Sebastian pushes himself back up onto one elbow, and wrinkles up his nose as he asks, “You really didn’t remember my name?”

“I don’t even remember what we talked about,” Chris teases, laughing as he crosses both arms behind his head.

Wildly unimpressed, Sebastian makes a face, and then laughs, leaning in close. God, it makes Chris’s heart stop; the room around them suddenly disappears in the flash-bang of extraordinary happiness that crosses Sebastian’s face. He looks just like the guy Chris met that night.

Warm and available, and able to pull people in like sunflowers turning towards sunshine.

“Liar,” Sebastian murmurs, grinning once before he turns his face into Chris’s arm. Chris watches, helpless to stop himself, as Sebastian nuzzles against the soft strip of skin between Chris’s armpit, and the inside of his elbow. Sebastian rests his cheek there, and adds, “You knew my name. You remembered me.”

Biting his lip, Chris shifts his legs against the couch, and counters, “You made me nervous.”

“That doesn’t count,” Sebastian almost says, but he doesn’t have a chance to finish before Chris gets him with a surprise two-armed hug. Laughing, Sebastian goes with it, and after a quick struggle, ends up with his face buried in the side of Chris’s neck. That doesn’t stop him from teasing, voice muffled, “You’re always nervous!”

Chris is a little more out of breath than he’d care to admit. Clearly, the secondhand smoke is getting to him.

“I’m just a nervous guy,” he grins, resting both arms around Sebastian as Sebastian settles on his chest.

Laughing, Sebastian tucks his face under the spot where Chris’s jaw meets his ear. That feels safe to Chris. He feels himself relax as Sebastian presses a gentle kiss right to the spot where his breath is puffing against the side of Chris’s throat.

As Sebastian dozes, eyelashes brushing slow against Chris’s skin, he murmurs, “Nervous guy, he says.”

Chris smiles up at the ceiling. Sebastian still makes him feel a little bit nervous - he doubts that feeling will ever stop - but it’s a different breed of nervousness. It’s energy with nowhere to go. Chris understands the difference between the way he feels when he sees Sebastian, and the way he feels when faced with a room of strangers.

He still can’t believe he went up on that stage in San Francisco, like it was nothing. Just another work day.

Sebastian brought that out of him. 

“You changed everything about me,” Chris breathes, suddenly choked up and starry-eyed as he stares at the yellowing stucco ceiling above them. “There’s no way I ever could have seen you coming.”

Sebastian’s nose bumps into the hollow of Chris’s throat, but it’s another minute before Sebastian replies, “So did you.”

“I knew I loved you that night in San Francisco,” Chris admits suddenly, voice cracking as he tells the truth for the first time in a very long time. “We were in the restaurant.”

Sebastian’s entire body goes tense and then he pushes himself up, off, awkward and abrupt.

“Chris - don’t,” he says, haunted. His eyes are glassy and bright with fear. “I don’t want to know.”

A moment sizzles between them, sedated and sad. It’s the last moment in their relationship Sebastian will ever be able to chalk up to just sex, and Chris suddenly realizes that.

He tries to offer up a reassuring smile - a sorry, I am about to break your heart - but it’s wobbly at best.

“I said something dumb,” Chris whispers, the corners of his mouth curling up into a gentle smile.

On the edge of the couch beside Chris’s calves, Sebastian looks back, eyes wet, and tries to smile back.

“I don’t remember exactly, I was just trying to make you laugh,” Chris continues on, remembering. The tears are already starting to well up, and Sebastian stares back, wide-eyed, paralyzed, a wild animal in the last moment before the trap snaps. “I made a stupid joke, and you - you looked at me and laughed, and I - I…”

Chris is suddenly, instantly, crippled by memories of that night.

They’re all there - safe in his head, right where they still live, forever where they belong - but the memories are on one side of the glass, and Chris is on the other. And that’s just the way it is. For as long as he’s known Sebastian, and for as long as he will ever know Sebastian, that is where their memories together will stay.

Lit in technicolor, but just out of reach.

“Just like that, huh?” Sebastian creaks out, voice strangled.

He has become Chris’s in fractions, and for the first time, Chris realizes that he will leave Chris in fractions, too. As Sebastian sits there, trying to smile despite the sad, wobbling line of his mouth, Chris is sure of that. And, even through the inevitable destruction, Sebastian is trying to take one for the team tonight - to make it not hurt so bad for Chris.

Chris presses down on the bruise, anyways.

“Yeah,” he whispers, and then laughs so he doesn’t cry. “Just like that. Stupid, huh?”

“The stupidest,” Sebastian laughs back, and then he’s laughing and crying and wiping at his eyes with one hand.

The bourbon is starting to make Chris’s head swim. He sits up and rests a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder so he doesn’t float away. 

“It does get me down, sometimes,” Sebastian admits, sniffing. He lets out a deep breath, and hunches forward.

It’s the first time Sebastian has ever said it out loud, and Chris feels its weight pull him deep under water. He doesn’t even get a chance to yell for help: one minute he’s looking at the sky and treading water, and the next, everything is deep ocean, and he can’t tell which way is back up.

“I know it does, sweetheart,” he murmurs, rubbing Sebastian’s shoulder. Sebastian lets out a shaky, long breath, and runs his fingers through his hair, letting them rest protectively over the crown of his head. Chris looks at their distorted reflection in the screen of the TV, and echoes, lost, “I know it does.”

Sebastian drops his hands, and turns his head, a watery smile on his face as he meets Chris’s gaze.

“Nights are the worst,” he admits, as Chris tugs him closer, into a hug. Into the side of Chris’s chest, Sebastian adds, “I can never sleep.”

Pressing a kiss into Sebastian’s hair, Chris thinks about the last few nights he’s had at home. Sneaking in the front door after midnight, eating leftovers straight from the fridge. He thinks about the wedding portrait framed over the fireplace, and the way the glass catches the flickering light of the television screen when Chris settles in to sleep on the couch.

“I get lonely without you, too,” is what he says out loud.

“Yeah,” Sebastian agrees, thoughtful. His brows are knotted, eyes red, puffy. “Lonely. It is lonely.”

Chris swallows tight, manages a hairpin smile, and tilts their heads together.

“I know it doesn’t always seem like it, but I’m trying my… my best,” he says, eyebrows knotting as his eyes threaten to tear up again. He tugs Sebastian even closer, and admits, “I just - I don’t know what I’m doing, sweetheart. I don’t know what to do.”

Wiping at his face, fingers bumping against Chris’s chest, Sebastian laughs a little, and says, “I don’t know what to do either, pal.”

~

Late that night, long after Chris should have already left, they lay together in Sebastian’s bed.

He wraps his arms around Sebastian’s waist, and tilts his nose into the nape of Sebastian’s neck.

And then he swears, “I don’t care if you don’t love me. I love you forever.”

Sebastian pretends to be asleep, but Chris knows he hears.

~

He and Amy start to get into a lot of arguments after that.

They’re petty. Trivial, after everything they’ve been through together.

Tonight, Amy is making dinner. Quietly. Viciously. They’ve been bickering about what to do with the kids over summer vacation, and neither of them are willing to budge. Chris wants to do something in the city. He wants to stay in Harlem. Amy thinks that’s a bad idea.

“You can’t have your cake and eat it too,” she says, dropping two handfuls of broccoli into the water boiling on the stove.

Pissed off, Chris snaps, “I don’t have the cake, Amy. I’m not even in the same fucking room as the cake.”

Amy looks over at him, expression blank. Her face gives absolutely nothing away.

“I wouldn’t say that,” she counters, as she places the lid back over the bubbling pot.

Frustrated, Chris takes the dog around the block a time or twenty. 

He ends up at Sebastian’s apartment, and misses dinner.

~

Chris is hanging out of Sebastian’s living room window, knee bare and propped up on the ledge.

He’s got his ukulele on his thigh, and he’s playing slow, most of his attention drifting along the busy street outside. In the guts of the apartment, just behind Chris in the living room, Sebastian is pacing between the couch and coffee table. He’s going over his new slide deck, murmuring to himself and marking things on the cards in pencil.

Listening to Sebastian’s low, rumbling voice, Chris leans back against the window frame, and eases into an old Lennon Sisters song.

It’s simple, there’s nothing to it. There is no chorus, and there are barely more than four verses.

The words feel heavy - comforting - to Chris.

Two days later, the song is still stuck in his head as he waits for Sebastian outside of his late night improv class.

Sebastian was working on a proposal all day, and then Chris and Mackie were putting together some sales funnels that will launch with the new website - so, other than a quick “hi” and “bye” in front of everyone, and the coffee Sebastian left on his desk first thing this morning - they haven’t seen one another all day.

Scraping the toe of his sneaker along the curb, Chris bounces his knees a little to the tune of the song still stuck in his head - way down, by the stream, how sweet, it will seem - and checks the time on his phone. He’s a little early tonight.

Sebastian emerges exactly seven minutes later; the last of his group to exit. He looks a little tense, backpack thrown over one shoulder.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Chris greets without thinking.

He goes in for a hug, but Sebastian dodges his attempt, and bumps their shoulders together instead.

“I ran into Amy after work,” he announces, conversationally, as they start walking. He’s already patting himself down for a cigarette. “At Starbucks. You believe that? Thank god the drink I was holding didn’t have your stupid name on it.”

Baffled, Chris looks over and asks, dumbly, “Amy?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian nods, jerking to a sudden stop as he pauses to light his cigarette. Chris isn’t sure how he feels. He always thought there would be something - some loss of gravity - when this moment came, but here he is. With his feet still on the ground. As Sebastian takes a deep, therapeutic inhale, he looks directly at Chris, and says, “She knows.”

Chris opens his mouth, and closes it. He brings a hand up, and rests it on the back of his head. His eyebrows knot together.

After a minute of this, Sebastian rolls his eyes and starts walking again.

“What happened?” Chris finally asks, reeling back to life. He catches up and ducks close to Sebastian’s side.

Sebastian hands his lit cigarette over, and immediately reaches for another.

“One of the football moms saw me at a game,” he explains, lips barely moving as he steadies a fresh cigarette in his mouth and lights the end. “I don’t know who. She told Amy. Amy looked me in the eye and smiled and said she didn’t realize we were putting in so many extra hours together.”

Because the cigarette is already lit and conveniently in Chris’s nervous hand, he takes a drag.

“Maybe she didn’t mean it that way,” is all he can think to say. He tilts his head, and angles the smoke back over his shoulder.

“Be smarter than that,” Sebastian snaps, frustrated. “She’s not an idiot, Chris. You’re the idiot here. I’m the idiot.”

Jesus, Chris can picture it. It doesn’t take much imagination when you know Amy.

“Is that all she said?” he asks curiously, not knowing what else to say. Part of him doesn’t want to know.

Sebastian smokes about half his cigarette in two inhales. Chris readies his to hand back over, just in case.

“I don’t remember,” Sebastian answers after a second, voice cracking a little bit. He knots his eyebrows and rubs at the lines in his forehead with his thumb. The cigarette is trembling between his pointer and middle fingers. “I - I, I was surprised. I didn’t… I wasn’t expecting to see her.”

Once Sebastian realizes he doesn’t know what else to say, he looks over at Chris hopelessly.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Chris frowns, reaching out. He feels dumb and big and protective all of a sudden, and can’t help pulling Sebastian into a tight hug to compensate for the blistering feeling in his chest. “Are you okay?”

Sebastian pulls back after a minute, chewing at his bottom lip.

“I don’t know,” he finally grimaces, looking down at his hand as he flicks the burnt out ash from the end of his cigarette. With a sharp inhale, he looks back up, catches Chris’s gaze, and shrugs, “It doesn’t matter if I’m okay.”

“Yes it does,” Chris replies immediately, frowning again. “How you feel always matters, Seb.”

“Believe me,” Sebastian says, voice quiet, withdrawn. He doesn’t meet Chris’s eyes. “It doesn’t. Not this time.”

A universe where Sebastian doesn’t matter is unfathomable to Chris. At a loss, he asks, “What do you want me to do? Should I say something?”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Sebastian sighs, and then they’re walking again.

They don’t say anything else about it until they arrive back at Sebastian’s apartment. Sebastian chainsmokes one more cigarette outside, and then Chris follows him through the main door into the lobby, and right up the stairs.

“We’ve been arguing,” Chris admits, watching Sebastian’s hands shake as he gets his front door lock undone. Sighing, Chris leans his head against the cracked plaster wall, and says, “I didn’t think she would bring you into it.”

“Oh, I’m in it alright,” Sebastian laughs humorlessly, opening the door. “I have both feet planted firmly in the ground.”

Chris follows him inside. Even with tonight’s events, Sebastian’s apartment still feels like a sanctuary: a place to be quiet after the long march of another day. That hasn’t changed. Sebastian drops his bag on the couch and runs a hand through his hair, and then heads over to the kitchen.

Reaching above the fridge, Sebastian pulls down a bottle of bourbon, and then two mugs.

“I really.. I thought…” Chris trails off, feeling hopeless. He watches Sebastian setting everything out on the counter, and then, the words are out before he can stop them: “I thought she would ask for the divorce first.”

Sebastian makes a face, and pours a good swig of bourbon into each mug.

“Yeah, well. You’re a hard guy to leave,” he sighs, returning to Chris with a drink in each hand.

Chris accepts the mug - sad, dark booze - and startles when Sebastian clinks the edges of their cups together, then throws the whole thing back.

“Cheers,” Sebastian bites out, making a face as he turns around for more.

“Sweetheart…” Chris tries, at a loss as he watches Sebastian pour himself another drink. Sebastian tops himself up, sticks the bottle under one arm, and heads towards the bedroom. Chris trails after him, lost. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

In the bedroom, Sebastian is lost in the dark until he switches on his bedside lamp.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replies, setting his mug and bottle down beside the bed. He unbuttons his pants, and then kicks off his shoes. As he peels his shirt over his head, he says, “Hurry up and drink that, so you can fuck me before you leave.”

“What?” Chris blurts. Everything that has happened tonight is completely out of his depth. “No! I don’t want to do that.”

Sebastian shrugs, indifferent, and pushes down his underwear. He steps out of them, and then picks up his drink before continuing on towards the attached bathroom. Not knowing what else to do, Chris sets his mug down beside the bottle Sebastian - thankfully - left behind, and sits down on the bed, uneasy.

“I don’t know what to do either, pal,” Sebastian calls from the bathroom. The toilet flushes. “Guess we’re at a stalemate.”

Frowning, Chris shouts back, “That’s not fair!”

“None of this is fair,” Sebastian replies. When he comes out of the bathroom, he’s got a pair of flannel sleeping pants up around his hips. Chris wants to touch them, wants to run his fingers over where the old, frayed fabric meets tanned, warm skin. “It isn’t supposed to be.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Chris counters, holding one arm out.

Sebastian frowns at him.

“What could you possibly say?” he asks, bewildered.

Chris’s arm hangs in the air, hand empty.

“You’re important,” Chris says, instead. He stands up, because if Sebastian isn’t going to come to him, he’ll go to Sebastian. He’ll do whatever it takes. “You know that, right? You’re as important as anyone else. I love you.”

If Sebastian seemed like he was about to let it go for the night, those three words change those odds on a dime.

“Don’t,” he says, softly. Firmly.

He pulls away from Chris like it’s easy for him - like he was never meant to be held onto - and shakes his head.

“Seb, what?” Chris asks, trailing off, lost.

Unsteadily making his way back to the bottle, Sebastian says, “Stop saying that. Don’t tell me you love me. I don’t love you.”

Chris freezes. Whatever forward motion he may have had ends abruptly, and now, instead of inching closer, he’s taking a physical step back. It feels like Sebastian has dumped a bucket of ice water on his head, and suddenly, Chris is thinking of their conversation the other night.

That conversation is where all of this started. That conversation is what made Chris prickly, made him difficult to be around, full of rage and acrimony. That conversation set into motion a series of actions that Chris will never be able to take back.

That conversation is what drove Amy into Sebastian’s neighborhood.

That conversation is what tipped the first domino, and now here he is, trying to stop the pieces from falling.

“You’re lying,” he finally manages - accuses. His voice is shaking.

Sebastian is practically crawling out of the living room window in his haste to light a cigarette.

“I’m not,” he swallows, eyes big and teary. He doesn’t look at Chris. “You were just convenient.”

Chris feels his face crumple up as he grimaces, shocked and sad.

“Don’t say that to me,” he counters, voice low. Sebastian pretends to ignore him. He takes a drag of his cigarette and tips his head back to blow smoke up at the ceiling, like he’s floating in water and searching out the sun. Warmth will not save them now - nothing will. When Chris doesn’t get a response, he snaps, “Don’t lie to me!”

Closing his eyes, Sebastian steels himself, puffing up big and strong. He says, “It’s true. I liked the challenge.”

Teary-eyed, Chris asks, “What the fuck are you doing?”

Sebastian bites back another mouthful of bourbon, and grits out, “It’s what I do.”

“Tell me the truth,” Chris demands. He reaches for Sebastian’s arm, but Sebastian ducks out of his reach just before they can make contact. Frustrated and confused, Chris shouts, “Say it!”

Eyes full of tears, Sebastian clenches his molars, jaw twitching, and says, “You were a game to me.”

That’s enough for Chris. As Sebastian moves over to the window, wanting to smoke, Chris follows. He tries to steer Sebastian back in his direction, but Sebastian smacks him away, and they get into a physical altercation. It doesn’t stop until Sebastian’s cigarette has burnt a melted, ugly hole in the carpet, and Chris has them pressed up against the kitchen door frame.

When Chris loosens his grip on Sebastian’s arms, both of them panting and close to tears, Sebastian reaches up and grabs Chris’s shoulders, rough, thumbs digging in as he stares at a spot on Chris’s throat and tries to blink back his tears.

“Tell me the truth,” Chris repeats, brokenly. He pushes Sebastian’s chin up, and looks into his eyes. “Tell me, Seb.”

Sebastian holds Chris’s gaze for a moment. He swallows tight, tears falling freely from his eyes, and then sniffs, looking past Chris, over one shoulder. Chris watches as he blinks hard, trying to get the tears to go away. It’s obvious - even to Chris - that he’s disappointed with himself.

“I love you,” Sebastian finally creaks out, voice watery. He grimaces and then tries to smile as he adds, “More than anything.”

The air gets sucked out of the room: Chris is sure of it, because all of a sudden, he finds it hard to breathe. He feels his face crumple up as he wraps Sebastian tighter in his arms and leans in, curling them in a hug. He holds on tight and listens to Sebastian as he breathes sharp and quick and rough, trying to pull himself together.

For all of the hard nights Chris has prepared himself for, he never could have seen this one coming.

“Sweetheart,” he manages, soft, as he tucks his face deeper into the crook of Sebastian’s neck.

~

For the first time in their relationship, Chris doesn’t text or call Amy to let her know he won’t be home until late.

He and Sebastian share the last of the bourbon. They order food, and they sit on the couch. Sebastian has recorded a bunch of space shows, and this episode is about how energy never dies. It just moves around the universe, forever.

Sebastian has Chris’s palm in one hand and a cigarette in the other when he says, “There’s another me out there, somewhere.”

Laughing tiredly, voice rough, Chris tilts his head to the side, until his ear bumps Sebastian’s shoulder, and asks, “Oh yeah?”

“I think so,” Sebastian replies, thoughtful. He ashes his cigarette in the empty takeout box. “I think he’d be successful. More successful than me, anyway.”

Chris thinks about that for a moment, and then says, confidently, “He’d be a good man.”

“Me and you, maybe,” Sebastian continues, voice a little distant now, hesitant. When Chris turns to look at his expression, he catches Sebastian watching the TV screen. There’s a diagram on the screen about how energy never dies: atoms that were born together, stay together. Sebastian catches Chris staring, and smiles. “It’s science.”

“Science, huh?” Chris asks, teasing a little now. He brings Sebastian’s hand up to his mouth, and kisses the back of it, letting his eyes close as he drags his lips across Sebastian’s skin.

Sebastian makes a soft sound of agreement, and says, “I bet they met a long time ago.”

“Maybe when they were kids,” Chris supplies, unthinking. He wraps Sebastian’s hand in both of his, and sets it in his lap.

Laughing tiredly, Sebastian takes the last drag of his cigarette with his free hand and adds, “Highschool sweethearts.”

“They’re happy, huh?” Chris asks, soft, as he watches Sebastian leaning forward, arm working as he butts out the cigarette.

Sebastian pauses, arm freezing, and then looks back over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he replies, quiet. He half smiles, “They’re the happiest.”

Chris watches Sebastian for a minute, and then says, “I bet they’re super annoying.”

“The worst,” Sebastian agrees, laughing. He settles back into the couch, and reaches for the television remote to fast forward through the commercials.

Unable to stop himself, Chris watches. He feels his heart thump against the inside of his chest, bruised and tender and sore.

Now that Sebastian has brought it up - the kismet behind every beginning - he needs to know for sure.

He asks, careful, “Have you ever been to Buffalo?”

There’s nothing behind the question, just curiosity. There’s no such thing as fate.

Sebastian gives him a look, but then thinks about it.

“Once, and I lasted a week. I did an internship with Xerox. First year of marketing school,” he smiles, soft as he thinks back on the memory. He’s quiet for a second, and then laughs, shaking his head as he adds, “And I threw up once in Delaware Park.”

Swallowing tight, Chris feels his eyes go glossy with tears. He nods and sniffs, trying not to cry.

“Seems like we just missed each other, then,” he laughs tightly, wiping his nose.

Sebastian looks back at him, confused, but Chris doesn’t say anything else.

~

The night ends, because they always do. In the morning light, Chris struggles to shake the stars off.

As he makes his kids pancakes, he thinks about Sebastian. It’s not a new or strange sensation. It’s no longer scary to catch himself daydreaming about Sebastian - even here, in his home, the stage he built to spend the rest of his life in. Some mornings he fantasizes about walking out the door and into a life that is easy and new.

Then he thinks about Sebastian on the night they fought, sitting in his apartment window, shirtless and hopeless and hung out over New York. A city full of dreams, taunting Sebastian from outside his three floor walk-up. 

Sebastian fucked up the moment he chose to hitch his star to Chris, and Chris damn well knows it.

At home, he becomes even more abrasive to compensate for the guilt. He wants Amy to leave him. Everything has become a bruise, and Chris is not strong enough to stop pressing on the bad spots.

It isn’t until summer sets in that he finds himself back in a familiar routine. He cuts the grass every weekend, and bitches about picking up the kids toys every other day. He’s putting the lawn mower back in the shed when he finds a hidden pack of cigarettes - the same brand Amy used to smoke when they were kids.

As he stands there, flipping the pack over and over in his hands, he feels himself bristle.

They stopped smoking the day they found out Amy was pregnant with Austin. Chris remembers laughing hysterically, riddled with adrenaline and joy at the sign of that positive pregnancy test. It sat on the bathroom counter as they broke their cigarettes in half, and flushed them down the toilet.

The cigarettes are why they end up arguing in the kitchen.

Yelling at each other is no longer new or scary, but Chris still can’t find a moment to breathe between the fight adrenaline throbbing through his body, and the kids screaming at each other in the living room - just like mommy and daddy.

“I don’t have to tell you shit, Chris,” she snaps, halfway through making the kid’s lunches.

If one of them has fallen off the bigger, more important wagon, it’s Chris - but the discovery still stings.

He makes a face and leans hard against the counter. He has to be careful with the sticks he chooses to pull from this dam, because choosing the wrong one - bringing up the wrong thing - will result in a collapse.

“A head’s up would still be nice,” he bitches back, tossing her half empty pack right between the peanut butter and jam jars. She looks up at him, sharp, the knife full of peanut butter frozen over the half covered slice of bread. He raises his eyebrows and asks, “Been up to anything else lately? Run into any old friends?”

Amy narrows her eyes at him, and replies, “None that I can recall. How about you? Picked up any new hobbies lately?”

“Just the old ones,” he says, serene.

Her eyes spark into tears, and suddenly, Chris feels so sick with himself that he could throw up. She clears her throat and drops her head, knife blade resting flat against the cutting board. Chris rubs his face and says, “Amy…”, but it doesn’t matter. She’s already picked up her cigarettes, and headed for the deck.

Chris stands with a hand on his face, and takes a deep breath.

“Fuck,” he finally whispers to himself, letting his arm drop back down.

Lashing out stopped feeling good the moment he landed a strike. He looks at the half finished sandwiches Amy was making, and then over at the living room door, where the kids seem to be in some kind of truce - if the suspiciously quiet state of things is any indication.

This isn’t a sustainable way to live. Chris knows that, but knowing doesn’t make it easier.

Outside, Amy is on the grass, sitting on the landscaping rocks at the edge of the garden. They redid the garden the first summer they moved into the house: they borrowed Amy’s brother’s truck to buy the stones. Chris can see from here how much her hands are shaking as she smokes a cigarette. It’s hard to watch. It reminds Chris of standing with her outside the hospital after her grandmother died.

He doesn’t realize Peyton is watching Amy, too, until she talks.

“Is mommy mad?” she asks, looking up at Chris. Those same, moon shaped eyes.

On the grass, Amy takes a deep drag of her cigarette, and exhales as she goes back to frantically typing into her phone.

Chris picks his daughter up, and props her on one hip.

“Mommy’s just relaxing,” he says, trying to keep his voice light. “Wanna help me make lunch?”

“Yeah!” she exclaims, nose wrinkling as she slaps him on the shoulder.

~

That night, Amy disappears upstairs with her iPad and an overfilled glass of wine.

In the living room, Chris slumps back into the couch, exhausted. He leans his head against the cushions and closes his eyes, and gets about thirty seconds of doing that before his phone starts to vibrate.

Sebastian.

“Seb?” he answers, picking it up on the second buzz. When all he hears is motion and distorted background noise, his smile turns into a frown. “Seb? Are you there?”

There are clinking glasses, the sound of people laughing in the background. The shift of fabric against phone.

“Is this Chris?” a woman - whose voice Chris doesn’t recognize - asks.

With another confused frown, Chris pulls the phone away from his ear. He double checks to make sure it is Sebastian who called him - and, sure enough, there he is - with his fluffy hair and his big grin faded away beneath the call buttons. Eyebrows knotting, Chris sets the phone back against his ear.

“This is Chris,” he says first, and then, after a brief pause, “Is everything okay?”

The woman sounds strained as she replies, “Your friend gave us your name as his emergency contact. He’s too drunk to give us an address for a cab. He needs to be picked up before we have to call the police.”

“Oh my god,” Chris blurts, heart rate instantly bumbling up into his throat as he bolts off the couch without hesitation. “Where is he? Who are you? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The woman is kind enough to text him a copy of the restaurant’s address through the text conversation he and Sebastian already have going. By the time Chris has flagged down a cab and directed the driver across mid-town, he’s vibrating adrenaline and worry.

As they pull up, Chris has his door open before the driver even manages to come to a complete stop at the curb.

“Seb!” Chris yells, spotting Sebastian. He leaves the cab door wide open as he jogs across the sidewalk. “Jesus, are you okay?”

Sebastian is fucking wasted. He’s shoeless and alone, and his shirt is unbuttoned a couple buttons too many. As soon as he lets go of the wall, Chris sees him tilt-shift, and then he staggers sideways into the brick of the building, shoulder skidding rough against the coarse mortar.

“What happened to your friends?” Chris babbles, unable to stop the questions as he navigates himself under Sebastian’s arm, and loops one of Sebastian’s arms over his shoulders. Sebastian is sweaty, face sticky, the armpits of his shirt soaked. “Did they leave you?”

Sebastian hiccups. He smells like puke and hard liquor this close.

“No friends,” he laughs to himself quietly, head lolling to the side. Eyes mostly closed, he grins, “Just me.”

“Jesus, Seb,” Chris breathes, grimacing.

It takes a few minutes to navigate their way back to the safety of the cab. Between Sebastian’s deadweight body listing heavily to the side, and his newborn deer legs scraping his shoe soles across the cement, Chris is a little out of breath by the time he manages to lever Sebastian head first into the back seat.

“Hey!” the cab driver pipes up, “If he’s gonna puke, you gotta walk!”

“I’m fine, I’m good,” Chris hears Sebastian promise, as he crawls over to the far side of the seat. His knees are practically up to his chin as he navigates the terrain of the footwell, one hand held out towards the cab driver in acquiescence. “Everything’s great.”

Heart still pounding, Chris drops into the cab next, and levers the door closed.

They’re about three blocks north of Sebastian’s apartment when Sebastian rolls forward, and pukes in the footwell.

Chris pays for the damages.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Homewrecker Sunday! After this, there will be chapter 14, 15, and then an epilogue - but chapter 15 plus the epilogue will be posted on the same day :)
> 
> ALSO, if you didn't catch it on tumblr, [@isabellajack](http://isabellajack.tumblr.com) made some INCREDIBLE Homewrecker art. Check out part one [here](http://isabellajack.tumblr.com/post/161946055041/this-is-a-humble-photoset-that-i-created-for-an), and part two [here](http://isabellajack.tumblr.com/post/161946395816/this-is-part-2-of-a-humble-photoset-that-i-created). They are both ridic beautiful!

In August, Chris googles “divorce” for the first time.

There are over two hundred million results, and each one is more intimidating than the last. The first link is an advertisement for $99 quickie separations, the next the latest story on a recent celebrity split.

Chris feels stupid. When he got married - as a young, broke, stupid college student - he was confident that it would be forever. Nothing would come between he and Amy: it didn’t matter if he dropped out of business school, or if her parents didn’t like him. Love was enough to compensate for that.

God, if that Chris could see the way things ended up, he’d never be able to look himself in the eye again.

He’d been too naive - too innocent - and too ignorant to realize that love isn’t enough for anything. Love isn’t a glue, and it isn’t something to mend things that have broken. Love is mean. You can make promises and you can sign a piece of paper, but a person can’t be yours forever.

It’s never permanent. People can fall out of love - or, even worse, into love - and there’s not a damned thing you can do about it.

When Elizabeth sticks her head around the corner and smiles, “Hey!”, Chris practically jumps out of his chair.

“Jesus, hi,” he swears, instantly closing all of his tabs. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Grinning Elizabeth walks over to his desk, laptop under one arm, and says, “Yeah, cause that’s hard.”

“Funny,” he teases back, heart still pounding. “What’s up?”

Elizabeth sets her work laptop down on Chris’s desk, and then steals Sebastian’s rolly chair.

“I just want to show you the place I booked in San Francisco,” she explains, flipping the screen up and turning the base around, so Chris can get a look at the screen. AirBnb. When she catches the look on his face, she reasons, “I know you guys are only there for two days, but it’s cheaper and nicer than a hotel.”

Chris doesn’t know what he’d do without Elizabeth. When he eventually hits the unavoidable fork in the road, he knows she’s going to be the one who holds him together.

“Wow, this is phenomenal,” he reviews, hunching forward to swipe through the gallery. “I love the view.”

Twirling back and forth in Sebastian’s chair, Elizabeth grins and says, “Tell me about it! I’m jealous, by the way. Next year the boys and I are planning to join - by force, if necessary.”

Chris laughs and closes the screen, and then leans back in his chair.

“Well, if it’s as good to us as this year was, I don’t see a problem with that,” he shrugs, before pausing. “But if Seb doesn’t go for it, we never had this conversation.”

She smirks at him and shakes her head as she gets back to her feet, snagging the laptop again before she goes.

“I’m making coffee, you want some?” she asks, heading towards the hall.

Shaking his head, Chris replies, “Seb is bringing me some back. Thanks, though.”

“I see,” she drawls, teasing him as she narrows her eyes. “I see the racket you’ve got going on here.”

Chris waves her off with a smile, and then goes back to the spreadsheet he was trying to edit before he got ideas about googling divorce. This is really more Sebastian’s forte, but he’s been a little behind all week - he came in so hungover on Monday that he just threw up in the bathroom and went home again - so, for now, Chris can figure it out.

It’s fine, though. It’s manageable. Chris can handle it. Chris is managing.

Sighing, Chris rubs both hands over his face, and closes his eyes.

~

That night, Chris has a nightmare.

In it, he’s standing at the edge of a gigantic black void, and he can’t see what’s at the bottom.

No matter how many steps back he takes, the emptiness follows him. It’s all consuming, and after what feels like years of running backwards, Chris finally gives in, and lets himself fall.

He awakes with a vicious start, heart beating hard in his chest.

It takes him a minute to realize where he is. Home, living room, couch. He loosens his grip on the quilt over his chest. There’s the TV, and the kids toys scattered across the floor, and the pair of jeans Chris is going to put back on in the morning.

With a shaky exhale, Chris closes his eyes, and tries to fall back asleep.

~

Two weeks later, Elizabeth is calling a cab to take them to the airport.

“They said fifteen minutes!” she shouts, shrugging into her jacket and turning around just as Chris and Sebastian bumble back into the front lobby, luggage bouncing against their legs. She watches them set everything down beside her desk, and asks, “Is there anything else I can do before you go?”

Sebastian extends both arms. They hug briefly, and then Elizabeth moves on to Chris.

“I’ll text you when we get there,” Chris says into her hair, squeezing her tight before he takes a step back. “If everything goes up in flames while we’re gone, I don’t want to know.”

It’s a joke, and all three of them know it. If anything, the office will be more efficient without either of them here.

“Noted,” she grins anyway, giving them each a wave as she snags her empty water bottle and heads for the door. Over her shoulder she adds, “Have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t!”

Chris gives her a floppy salute, and Sebastian laughs again, saying, “Yeah, yeah,” as she locks the door, grinning at them through the glass.

“Jesus, I can’t believe we’re already doing this again,” Chris sighs, after Elizabeth has disappeared from the frame of the door.

Sitting down behind Elizabeth’s desk, Sebastian lets his head rest against the chair, and smiles, “Tell me about it.”

“Crazy year,” Chris sighs, propping his butt against the inside edge of the desk. After a moment of thought and looking at his hands, he glances over at Sebastian and raises one eyebrow. “You ever think we’d be here?”

Sebastian closes his eyes and drawls out, “Not in a miiiiiillion years, pal.”

“Likewise,” Chris smiles, shaking his head. They watch each other for a long moment, until Chris touches Sebastian’s knee, and then gets to his feet. “Let’s wait outside. The faster we get to the airport, the faster we can eat.”

Getting out of Elizabeth’s fancy ergonomic chair, Sebastian pats himself down, making sure he’s got his phone, sunglasses, and wallet, and then reaches for the handle of his luggage. They’re very professional this year, they’ve upgraded from knapsacks and everything.

“Hit the lights,” Sebastian says, making his way towards the door.

Chris does as he’s told, and stands there, watching as darkness floods the back of the office from one side to the other.

~

Up in the air, Chris lets himself wander towards a train of thought he doesn’t often think about.

It’s a lot like standing on the tracks and playing chicken. The longer Chris lets himself feel the steel rumbling underneath his shoes, the more tempting it is to stay still for one moment longer - just to see how far he can make it. Every moment is a thought. How far can he go down this rabbit hole before it begins to hurt too much?

How close will he let the train get before he jumps out of its way?

On the plane, Sebastian sits beside him, reading a script with one hand and holding Chris’s with the other. Chris studies his fingers, the way his thumb rests across Chris’s knuckles, and the bony knob of his wrist right below the spot where his watch hangs loosest. Chris chances a glimpse up at Sebastian’s face, but Sebastian is too consumed by his script to notice.

He stands on the tracks for a moment longer, and lets himself wonder what a relationship with Sebastian could look like.

Everything would be different. Every piece of his life, changed by Sebastian walking in, and Amy stepping back. He looked up the basics of divorce again last night, and this time, there was nobody to interrupt him. He and Amy could split custody of the kids. She could keep everything.

If Chris had to, he could move into the office temporarily.

He stands on the tracks for a moment longer.

Maybe a few months down the line, he and Sebastian could cash in some equity, and get a nice property in Manhattan. Sebastian talks about it all the time, but he doesn’t have enough money to afford it on his own.

He stands on the tracks for a moment longer.

They would make each other breakfast every morning. It would be their thing. Sebastian would catch him staring, and he’d smile, and Chris, for once in his life, would feel like he’d done something right. Working and living together might be hard to navigate at first, but they’d figure it out. They’d build a nice life together.

Chris curls his fingers around Sebastian’s, and lets his focus blur as he stares out the tiny plane window.

He stands on the tracks for a moment longer.

Chris would come home late one night, and Sebastian would wonder where he’d been - if he was cheating again.

At Christmas, his hand would be forced. He’d have to introduce Sebastian to his mother, and somehow manage to look her in the eye. Everyone at the office would figure out the timeline, they’d know how long it had been going on. Elizabeth would talk about him the same way she does her ex-boyfriend banker.

Swallowing hard, Chris drops his head back against the headrest, and squeezes his eyes closed tight.

He should have stepped off the tracks.

~

They land in San Francisco a few hours later.

Chris gets Lou Reed stuck in his head because the duty free is playing Walk on the Wild Side as they pass by. The pretzel cart doesn’t smell anything like the street vendors do in New York, and for a second it makes Chris dizzy, like he’s flipped the page and fallen into someone else’s story.

He squeezes Sebastian’s hand out of habit, like a flower growing to seek out the sun.

Sebastian glances over at the squeeze, and squeezes back as they smile at each other. It’s just a moment, a pulse. But it’s real.

These concrete moments that Chris will hold onto, even if he forgets everything else.

“I can wait for our bags if you want to get in line for the car rental,” Chris offers, tilting his head towards the never-ending wall of rental counters. Every single one of them already has a line at least three people deep.

For a moment, Chris is so distracted with himself that he doesn’t even notice the expression on Sebastian’s face.

“I… I can’t,” Sebastian tells him after a long moment, eyes searching Chris’s face, expression lost.

Chris is genuinely confused. He knots his eyebrows, and lets go of Sebastian’s hand so he can pat his jean pockets down.

“I thought you had the credit card,” he says, worried they somehow forgot it at the office.

“Yeah, I - I do. I, uh,” Sebastian starts, and then falters, expression growing pained. He stares at Chris, mouth opening and closing, licking his lips nervously, before he blurts out, “I have a DUI. It - it was a while ago, but, uh, you know. They stay on there for ten years.”

Chris feels his stomach go topsy-turvy. His hands freeze on his thighs. All he can get out is an, “Oh.”

“I can wait for our stuff,” Sebastian quickly offers, looking embarrassed. “I’ll come to you.”

“Sure,” Chris nods back, on that last knife edge before he starts to babble. “Sure. Okay, let me know if you need help.”

He feels like he should give Sebastian a hug or something, but he doesn’t get the chance. Sebastian gives him a quick smile, and then disappears into the crowd.

In line at the car rental counter, Chris can’t stop thinking about it. There’s just - there’s a lot about Sebastian that he doesn’t know yet. He takes a step forward when the line moves, and bounces his foot, nervously shifting his weight. He scratches behind his ear.

“Next,” the car rental lady calls out, and Chris - momentarily - snaps out of it.

~

The house Elizabeth rented for them is a little condo - Google Maps says it’s a fifteen minute drive away from the conference center.

“I like it here,” Sebastian admits to the passenger side window, attention focused on the city passing by.

Smiling, Chris flips his sun visor down, and looks over at Sebastian’s profile as he comes to a stop at a red light.

“Me too,” he says, and he means it.

They pull up outside the condo twenty minutes later, most of which was spent waiting in traffic. Chris gets their luggage out of the trunk and hands Sebastian his phone, which has Elizabeth’s email - and the door entry code from the AirBnb people - pulled up on the screen.

“This is wild,” Sebastian laughs, following along after Chris as Chris bumps their two rolly bags up and over the curb.

Elizabeth put them on a little side street outside the bustle of the Financial District. It’s familiar, in that brownstone and little city garden kind of way.

“Home sweet home!” Chris agrees, heading up the brick steps first. 

When they get to the front door, Sebastian hands Chris his phone, and takes over bag handle duty as Chris alternates between squinting at the door entry code in his hand, and punching the corresponding numbers into the tiny keypad underneath the door knob.

“Technology,” Sebastian announces from over Chris’s shoulder, as the pad buzzes happily and the lock clicks.

Laughing, Chris pushes the door open, and blindly feels around for the lights.

It really is as stunning as it looked online. Even though it’s too dark outside to appreciate their view of the bay, Chris peeks out the kitchen window, nose bumping against the floor to ceiling window pane.

“Can we leave the work for tomorrow,” Sebastian groans, appearing suddenly. He leans heavy against Chris’s back. “I’m tired and so hungry.”

Chris gets himself twisted around, so he can wrap both arms around Sebastian’s shoulders.

“Anything you want,” he promises, meaning it.

~

San Francisco has more to offer than the comedy club they end up at - Chris knows it - and yet…

“All you can eat wings!” he grins, reaching out to snag Sebastian by the arm.

Inside, Chris bumbles around in the dark, feeling lost as he looks for an empty table. By the time he finds one, small and round and tucked way at the back of the room, Sebastian has returned from the bar with a beer in each hand.

“This is us,” Chris smiles, taking a beer from Sebastian, and pulling a chair out.

Sebastian smiles at him - small, private, not meant for anyone else - and takes a seat.

It’s fun. It’s exciting to sit here with Sebastian and rest one arm up around his shoulders where anyone could see. Chris feels like a bend of electricity crackling in the dark, lit up and alive. They laugh and clap and their elbows bump, and, in-between comics, Chris kisses Sebastian so hard they both almost fall out of their chairs.

Their waitress brings another round of wings right as Sebastian gets back with their second round of drinks. Fifteen minutes after that, Chris is graceless and covered in barbeque sauce.

“You got a little something,” Sebastian teases, pointing to the corner of his own mouth with one pinky.

Chris raises his eyebrows in surprise and licks the corner of his mouth, really trying to get his tongue out there.

“Better?” he asks after a minute of struggle, unsurprised when Sebastian laughs even more.

Shaking his head, Sebastian wipes his fingers off with his tiny, dirty cocktail napkin, and grins, “Other side.”

It’s a good couple minutes of laughing and coaching before Chris is able to salvage his dignity. By the time Sebastian deems him clean, the last comic of the night is taking the stage, and they’re onto their third round of drinks.

“Hey,” Chris says low, leaning on his elbow to speak directly against Sebastian’s ear.

Over the bump of the comedian’s microphone and the polite, rolling applause of the crowd, Sebastian looks back with a grin. And then he leans in close, until their upper arms are pressed together, and asks, “Can I help you?”

“Kiss me,” Chris grins, laughing when Sebastian looks at him, and presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek.

Sebastian pretends to consider the request, and then leans over slowly.

“I think I can do that, yeah,” he acquiesces, pressing their lips together.

Chris’s hand comes up automatically, resting against the back of Sebastian’s neck, and god, he thinks, if it could be like this. If it could just be like this.

They kiss soft, and then Sebastian snorts against Chris’s cheek and pulls back, still smiling and staring at Chris’s mouth.

It’s the best Chris has felt in weeks. Months.

Then the comic says, “My girlfriend accused me of cheating,” and, with a sigh, flicks the microphone cord around, wandering across the stage as the audience ghosts a round of anticipatory laughter. The comic sets the mic back on its stand and makes a face, then adds, “I told her she was starting to sound like my wife.”

As the audience laughs and claps, Chris feels Sebastian stiffen against his side.

In a split second Chris is thrown back to the wolves, and there’s not a damned thing he can do about it.

~

Tell me it gets better, Chris thinks that night, as he watches Sebastian, asleep on the pillow next to him.

Tell me this isn’t irreparable.

~

In the blue light of a new west coast morning, Sebastian runs through their presentation one last time.

Chris sits at the kitchen table by himself, half asleep and with a mug of coffee cradled in one hand. Every time Sebastian reads out a talking point, he scratches his head and thinks. It makes his hair stick up straight and tall, some parts on the crown of his head practically on end.

Even though Chris is too tired to fret at first, that familiar creep of anxiety shows up right on time.

“Hey,” Sebastian says, catching Chris’s attention. Chris looks away from where he’s watching his hands knot his tie in the bedroom mirror, and up to where Sebastian has appeared in the doorway over his shoulder. “You doing okay?”

Hesitating, Chris watches Sebastian’s expression for a moment, and then replies, “Nervous.”

Sebastian walks up behind Chris, only half dressed in his suit pants, and winds both arms around Chris’s waist.

“Well, we can’t all be Oprah,” he teases softly, nosing behind Chris’s ear. He laughs when Chris gives him a pointed look.

Inside the conference center, the joke of the day is that Chris is here as eye candy: a corporate piece of ass meant to look good, like the bikini models handing out Red Bulls at every door. It gets a laugh out of the suits as Chris and Sebastian mingle their way across the floor, networking from person to person.

The morning goes fast, all things considered, in-between damp handshakes and sneaking outside to stand with Sebastian as he smokes.

Chris almost - almost - takes Sebastian up on his offer for a pre-presentation drag, but inevitably declines. The last thing he needs on stage is a dizzy nicotine buzz.

“Hey guys,” Sebastian grins, greeting their audience of a hundred people like he would any old friend. He holds the microphone up to his mouth with one hand, and uses the other to cut the spotlight with his notes so he can see past the edge of the stage. “Wow, full house. Hey, hi. I’m Sebastian.”

“Chris,” Chris adds, nervous enough to do nothing but blurt out his own name.

Their presentation lasts for a heart-pounding forty minutes. Chris helps when he can, adding a developmental note or a little bit of backstory, and just tries not to stare too much. It’s difficult to watch anything other than Sebastian when he’s performing like this. 

When they get off stage, Rob - Even’s largest investor - comes by to say hello.

“Great job, Sebastian. Chris. That was fantastic,” he nods. “Really good stuff.”

Chris nods a smile as he shakes Rob’s hand, and then takes a step back so Sebastian can, too.

Loosening the knot in his tie, Chris jokes, “That was all Seb, here.”

“Ahh, you flatter all the ladies,” Sebastian teases back.

The three of them head down the corridor to the cafeteria, where Chris is happy to show his Speaker lanyard in exchange for a free buffet stamp. Sebastian catches his eye with a smile as they settle into the line.

They’ve just broken past the mountain of napkin wrapped cutlery trays when Sebastian is pulled away by another investor, leaving Chris with Sebastian’s tiny paper plate, and Rob to make small talk with.

Chris panics, trying to think of something interesting to say, and reaches for a child-sized finger sandwich.

“You’re a married man, huh?” Rob asks, beating Chris to the punch. He’s caught the glint of Chris’s wedding band. “How long?”

Without thinking, Chris jerks his hand back, and blurts out, “Twelve,” a pause, “Uh, years. Twelve years.”

“Twelve years!” Rob exclaims, genuinely surprised. He shakes his head and admits, “Well, I feel dumb. I thought you and Sebastian only met last fall.”

Chris’s heart starts to pound. He almost drops his plate into the soup station.

“It… you know. It goes by fast,” is what he manages to bumble out, fumbling his words with the grace of a newborn lamb. When Rob doesn’t immediately reply, Chris doubles down, knots his eyebrows, and confirms, “It goes by fast.”

“You’re telling me,” Rob sighs, reaching for another serving spoon. Jesus, that was it? Chris was prepared to spin a tale, to really make Rob buy what he was- “God, you don’t look old enough to be married for twelve years! You guys must have been kids.”

The corner of Chris’s mouth tugs up into a little smile.

“We were,” he says softly, gaze flickering to look at the trays of dessert set back from the finger foods. Even though he feels like he might cry, he ends up laughing instead, shaking his head as the memory buoys along. “We were ready to change the world. Stupid, huh?”

Rob pats him on the shoulder and says, “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Nobody is where they thought they would be.”

Forcing his lips up into a tight smile, Chris shuts himself up before he can say anything else.

They go back to chatting about the food and November’s app launch, and then Rob excuses himself to have lunch with his Blackberry. Chris stands around by himself, a buckling plate of food in each hand as he waits for Sebastian’s return.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait too long. Sebastian appears at Chris’s elbow with a flute of champagne in one hand, and a smiley, “Hey.”

“Oh jeez, hi,” Chris manages, shifting the plates around so Sebastian can take his. “I got some food going.”

He hands the food over gingerly, careful not to say anything about Sebastian’s drink.

~

It’s Sebastian’s last smoke break of the day, and Chris is staring.

“What?” Sebastian grins, catching the look in Chris’s eye. “Do I have something on my face?”

Chris tries to keep a hold on his smile, but it’s a losing game. His smile breaks into a grin, and then he laughs, helpless.

“I just think you’re great,” he admits, shrugging.

Sebastian’s grin doesn’t fade. He just watches Chris back, and the smoke trails out of his mouth as he exhales, lazy. Neither of them look away from one another, but Sebastian bumps the toes of their fancy dress shoes together and says, “Likewise,” as he does so, voice sentimental and soft.

On their way out to the parking lot at the end of the day, Sebastian asks, “You think that little burrito place is still around here?”

Chris is carrying the million pieces of free corporate swag they collected like Halloween candy over the course of the day, but he still lifts one arm so Sebastian can get underneath it.

“I don’t know,” he sighs, wrist flopping as his arm relaxes around Sebastian’s shoulders. “I was thinking maybe I’d have an early night. Shut the lights off, turn on the ocean sounds…”

First Sebastian tips his head back and laughs, and then he groans and covers his eyes with one hand.

“He thinks he’s a comedian!” he exclaims to no one in particular. Chris starts laughing, and almost fumbles the plastic Cushman & Wakefield water bottle he’s got wedged in the crook of his elbow. Sebastian continues, “He got one moment in the spotlight today, and now he thinks he’s funny!”

Chris catches the water bottle by lifting one knee up, and then ducks close to Sebastian’s ear to say, “I always think I’m funny.”

“I got news for you, pal,” Sebastian teases, finally noticing Chris’s struggle. He snags the water bottle from its looming parking lot death, and then splits away, smiling, as the car comes into view. “Your strengths have nothing to do with your comedy routine.”

Still laughing, Chris ducks his head and helplessly flops up one hand when Sebastian pretends like he’s going to launch the water bottle back like a grenade.

“Are you asking me to flex?” Chris asks, trying to dig the car fob key out of his jacket pocket with one hand. Sebastian throws his head back again and laughs, and then rounds the passenger side of the car, grinning at Chris over the roof. “I’ll flex, sweetheart, all you gotta do is ask.”

“Oh, you better not!” Sebastian volleys back, still cracking up. “You only brought one shirt!”

Chris suddenly feels like he’s going to drop his arm full of merchandise.

“Jesus, I love you,” he blurts over the roof of the car.

This thing they have is beautiful. In-between the cracks and the stress of living beneath the weight of Chris’s choices, there is this. This relationship they have, this chemistry, this little dandelion growing through the crack in the concrete.

“I think someone’s angling for a free dinner!” Sebastian laughs, a wicked look in his eye.

Cracking up, Chris accidentally drops the car keys, and then their Bank of America frisbee.

~

While Sebastian is in the shower, Chris calls to make reservations at the same Mexican place they went to last year.

It’s like stepping into a sense memory. Jesus, Chris remembers this place like it was yesterday: it’s intimate in the same way a memory is, stuck in Chris’s mind like a beloved song. The food is amazing, and this time, Chris even manages to hold his menu up the right way around.

“Check those guys out,” Chris grins, sleepy and sated from the food. He bumps the side of his shoe against the arch of Sebastian’s foot underneath the table, and then nods further down the strip of the narrow restaurant, to where a guy is trying to convince his unwilling date to dance.

Sebastian sneaks a look over his shoulder first, but then has to turn properly, angling his head so he can peek around the table behind them.

“Well?” Chris asks, when Sebastian’s seen what he’s talking about, and turns back to face him.

First Sebastian’s eyebrows knot, and then he frowns. After an exceptionally long pause, he asks, “Well what?”

“Alright,” Chris sighs, being extra theatrical as he pulls the gigantic napkin from his lap, folds it into quarters, and lays it across his empty plate. He shrugs his shoulders and then pushes himself back from the table. “I guess I’m gonna have to do this the old fashioned way.”

Sebastian is still confused, but now he looks horrified, too. He watches, eyebrows raising, as Chris gets out of his seat.

“No,” Sebastian blurts, wide-eyed, as Chris comes to a stop beside Sebastian’s chair, and holds out one hand.

Trying hard to maintain his straight face, Chris nods seriously, and asks, “Will you dance with me?”

“No way!” Sebastian laughs, trying to hunch away when Chris immediately moves in, sneaking a hand in to try and get a hold of Sebastian’s. He’s cracking up enough that the people at the table across from them look over, confused.

Chris finally breaks and laughs too, both arms helplessly wrapped around Sebastian’s upper half.

“Please,” he cackles against Sebastian’s back, laughing breathlessly when Sebastian moves just enough to throw off his balance and he stumbles forward, ending up in a crouch first, and then on his knees. When Sebastian looks down at him, face lit up with the world’s brightest smile, Chris takes the opportunity to exclaim, “I’m on my knees, here!”

Sucking his lips into his mouth, Sebastian tries so hard to hold back his smile.

“No,” he says, expression contorting as he curls his lips, trying not to laugh. “Sorry.”

Chris is still kneeling on the floor at Sebastian’s side when their waitress walks up behind them and says, “Sir… I’m sorry, you can’t sit on the floor.”

“Shit, sorry,” Chris replies, genuinely a little embarrassed as he climbs back to his feet and bumps into the table, shaking everything on it as he gets himself back into his chair.

The waitress refills their glasses, and gives Chris a weird look before departing.

“If they don’t want people to do that, they should really have a sign,” Chris stage whispers, raising one eyebrow.

Sebastian hasn’t stopped looking at him since Chris sat back down. This is one of those moments, Chris thinks. This is one of those moments that will haunt him when everything comes crashing down.

“What are you thinking about?” Chris asks, suddenly paralyzed by the way Sebastian is watching him: bright eyed, affectionate.

Sebastian hesitates, but then says, voice rough, honest, “Me and you.”

Lips curving up into a smile, Chris reaches across the table for Sebastian’s hands, and holds on.

~

The night before their return flight to New York, Chris remembers that Elizabeth booked their tickets later in the day, so they could sightsee.

Go to the aquarium, she’d said. You’ll love it.

Chris does love San Francisco, but it isn’t related to the marine life.

He wakes up with Sebastian’s face in his chest, and his arms wrapped high around Sebastian’s shoulders. Ugh. Even half asleep with his eyes closed, Chris cringes against the bright morning light. Last night they left the curtains open to watch the little ferries chug to and fro in the Bay: this morning, Chris regrets not getting up one last time to close them.

“Mmm,” Sebastian groans, half awake. He curls face first into Chris’s front, and mumbles, “We should get up.”

Shaking his head, Chris arches his back and wiggles down the bed, until his feet are hanging off the end, and he and Sebastian are nose to nose above the covers.

“I’m happy here,” he says, sneaking forward to kiss Sebastian’s neck.

“The fish,” Sebastian groans, stretching one arm up, then laughing as Chris beard burns his throat. “They need us!”

Chris grins and wraps himself around Sebastian some more, hooking one leg over his thighs and an arm around his bare waist.

“There are fish in New York,” Chris says, closing his eyes.

Sebastian laughs and leans his face towards the sun, groaning, “I wanna see a shark.”

“We’ll go to Coney Island,” Chris continues, getting a little hard when Sebastian arches his hips forward, pressing their bodies close together. “We’ll buy ice cream and stand on the pier.”

Laughing, Sebastian runs a hand through Chris’s hair, looks down, and asks, “Are you asking me on a date?”

“Maybe,” Chris replies, moving his hand to rest over Sebastian’s butt. “Are you gonna say yes?”

Sebastian teases back, “Probably not.”

“Oh we’ll see,” Chris murmurs, as Sebastian rolls him over to get on top. “We’ll see about that.”

~

They rally themselves an hour later, and manage to get to the aquarium by noon.

Chris watches the jellyfish tube change color, takes a picture of Sebastian in the shark tunnel, and sends a video of the two otters holding hands to Elizabeth, who specifically requested it.

“Guess it’s time to go,” Chris sighs, as they walk back to the parking garage.

From beside him, Sebastian bumps their elbows together, and offers a small smile.

~

Landing at JFK is strange.

With Sebastian’s hand in his lap, Chris watches as everything comes back into view: the familiar pattern of green trees, river, baseball diamonds, and concrete. He rests his chin in his palm. There’s Midtown, where Peyton and Austin’s pediatrician is. The Upper East side, where Amy worked at a yoga studio when they first moved from Buffalo. The Yankee Stadium, where they got caught on kiss cam once.

The closer they get to landing, the harder Chris starts coming back to reality. By the time they’re circling back to LaGuardia, Chris has stopped looking out the window altogether.

“Wanna grab something to eat?” Sebastian asks quietly, leaning his head back against the seat.

Swallowing, Chris smiles - it’s a little tight - and says, “Yeah, sweetheart. I do.”

~

That night, Chris gets home just before midnight.

He pulls his little rolly luggage up the stairs, unlocks the front door, and takes off his jacket.

Dodger comes trotting out of the kitchen, happy to see him.

“Hi pal,” Chris sighs, squatting down to give him a good scratch. The dog looks up at him, mouth open and tongue out, and tries to lick his wrists as he scratches behind Dodger’s ears. “How you been, huh?”

Chris blinks slow, tired. He groans as he pushes himself back to his feet and starts towards the kitchen, Dodger tapping around his feet as he walks.

“Hey,” Chris says, surprised, when he realizes Amy is the reason the lights are still on. She’s sitting at the island, magazine flopped open, a mug of something in one hand. Awkwardly hanging around the door, he says, “Didn’t think you’d still be up.”

Shrugging, Amy stirs the spoon leaning in her mug, and flips to the next page in her magazine.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she finally replies, voice soft, quiet. Chris scratches the back of his head, unsure of what to say. Just as he’s about to give up and head to sleep on the couch, Amy looks over from her magazine, and asks, “How was California?”

Chris stares at her, mouth opening before he’s even sure of what he’s going to say.

“It was good,” he finally manages. He watches her, hopelessly, and adds, “It went fast.”

It was good, without you.

It went fast, without you.

I think I might be able to do this, without you.

Nodding, Amy watches him back, waiting. She gives him more time than he deserves - and for a second, Chris thinks he might do it, he might say it - but then that open, familiar expression on her face closes off, and she turns back to her book.

He look too long.

“That’s nice,” she says simply, flicking the page again. There’s no way she’s even reading what she’s looking at.

When she doesn’t say anything else, and Chris doesn’t know what else to, he nods, and starts to turn away.

“Goodnight,” Amy calls, and Chris comes to a sudden stop in the hall, eyes closing.

If she were ever offering an olive branch, despite knowing everything, it is in this moment.

Chris opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a returned, “Night.”

He walks back down the hallway quickly, quietly, and makes his way to the couch.

~

“Tell me EVERYTHING,” Elizabeth grins the next morning. “How was the house? How was the view? Oh god, how cute were the otters in real life? Did you eat at that Chinese place Paul likes?”

Startled, Chris looks up from where he was texting Sebastian back, and lets the front door close behind him.

“I only caught one of those questions,” he manages. “The house was great.”

Rolling her eyes, Elizabeth balks at him and says, “That’s it?”

“The view… was good?” he adds, before making a sad-me face and saying, “I’m still three hours behind.”

“Clearly,” she snorts, leaning back in her chair. “We watched the conference livestream. You guys were cute.”

“Of course we were,” Chris says seriously, heading around her desk. “We’re professional MEN.”

She laughs and calls to his back, “Everyone in the comments section wanted to bone you!”

“Good!” he calls, even though he isn’t 100% on what that means.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @isabellajack made THE MOST AMAZING photosets for this fic! Check them out (and like/reblog them!!!) [here](http://isabellajack.tumblr.com/post/161946055041/this-is-a-humble-photoset-that-i-created-for-an) and [here](http://isabellajack.tumblr.com/post/161946395816/this-is-part-2-of-a-humble-photoset-that-i-created).

“Beautiful,” Elizabeth laughs, taking a step back from their ‘make fun of Chris’ wall.

Technically - TECHNICALLY - it’s a ‘look how much fun we have at this office!’ wall, but in Chris’s opinion, it’s leaning a little hard on the former.

The newest installation was hung just a few minutes ago, after a box of fresh company t-shirts rolled in from the printer. It turns out every single shirt Elizabeth unwrapped had an A instead of an E - so, now here they are - with five crisp t-shirts that say ‘EVAN’ across the chest.

...so obviously Chris squeezed himself into Elizabeth’s size small, and patiently waited for Mackie to sharpie an S right after the N stretched tight over his boob.

The photo that was snapped shortly after has since been stuck to the wall before him in gigantic A4 size.

“Am I the only one on the wall? Why am I the only one on the wall!” Chris exclaims, squinting from one side of the collection to the other. There is one picture of Mackie up there, but he looks all cool and shit, sprawled out over the reception floor with his Yankees hat pulled low over his eyes.

Paul, hands in his pockets, studies the series of pictures for a long moment, and then earnestly says, “Guess you just do stupid stuff.”

“Thanks bud,” Chris laughs, as everyone cracks up.

It’s been a pretty crazy two weeks at Even. Everything has been go, go, go, since they got back from San Francisco, and with good reason: to Chris’s understanding, they’re going to be ready to deliver the beta version of their app by Thanksgiving.

That is wild.

Chris is thinking about their last sprint schedule when Elizabeth catches up to him in the hallway.

“Hey,” she breathes, holding out a bright green sticky note stuck to the pad of her pointer finger. “Scott called to cancel your meeting this afternoon.”

Frowning, Chris takes the note, looks down at it, and asks, “Did he say why?”

“He got stuck with a client,” Elizabeth shrugs, tapping the top of the note. “If it’s an emergency, he said to call him at this number. He dropped his phone and shattered the screen - I don’t know the details, but he sounded pretty mad about it.”

Chris sighs and rubs the back of his neck.

“That sounds about right,” he finally says.

It also sounds like he’s gonna have to start paying for his brother’s services if he ever wants to see him again.

“I can call him tomorrow and reschedule,” Elizabeth promises, like it’s as simple as that. She juggles her elbow crook full of manilla folders, and asks, “Do you need any copies made?”

Chris frowns down at the note some more, and shakes his head.

“I’m good for now,” he finally says, distracted.

Fuck it. He’ll have to worry about Scott later.

~

Sebastian sticks around late that night to finalize some time sensitive files.

For the most part, they’re back to their regular schedule - but even so, it’s only by the skin of their collective ass.

Chris spends his evening tinkering around with this and that, reviewing the last developmental update from Paul, and looking at the sales proofs Mackie sent his way today. Man, if they aren’t careful, they really are going to have a real product to ship by Thanksgiving.

“I’m almost done,” Sebastian promises, glancing up from his screen. “Then we can eat.”

With a shrug, Chris leans back in his chair, and says, “I’m content.”

Sebastian smiles over at him, and they share a look before he goes back to his spreadsheet.

It doesn’t take very long for Sebastian to tap out. Half an hour later, he’s groaning and stretching his arms up in-between saving everything to their backup drive, and finishing off the last mouthful of coffee left at the bottom of his mug.

This is their routine, Chris realizes, watching Sebastian. Another branch they’ve grown together.

Chris waits until Sebastian is done-done before he rolls across the floor in his chair, laughing when he bumps with just enough velocity to have Sebastian stumble backwards into his lap.

“Hey,” Sebastian grins, one arm shooting out to steady himself when Chris underestimates his weight. Chris smiles back and leans in over Sebastian’s shoulder to kiss his cheek. “This is a professional workplace!”

“Only until five,” Chris counters, his hand already up the back of Sebastian’s shirt. “Then it’s party city.”

Laughing, Sebastian leans back an inch, and rests his arm up around Chris’s shoulders.

“I don’t think these chairs are built for two men,” he comments, a little suspicious as the chair creaks.

Chris grins and leans in again, nudging the side of Sebastian’s nose with his.

“I don’t see a problem,” he murmurs, smiling when Sebastian turns his head so they can kiss properly.

They kiss again and again and again, moving further and further away from their dinner plans, until there’s a sudden bang from the other side of the room.

Chris’s open mouth brushes against Sebastian’s cheek, he turns his head so fast.

“You’re kidding me,” Scott says.

Just like that, one step forward, and two steps back. Sebastian quickly and quietly gets up off Chris’s lap.

“Scott,” Chris blurts, articulate as ever. His heart floods with adrenaline. “What are you doing here?”

He wants to stand up - he means to stand up - but very suddenly realizes he’s frozen.

“I’m here to see my brother,” Scott snaps, stunned. “I thought I could treat him to dinner after I acted like such an asshole the last time we talked. Seen him around? Six foot tall idiot with a heart of gold?”

Chris opens his mouth, expecting the words to come out. He blanks.

“I… I’m…” he stumbles, automatically looking over to Sebastian, who is quietly, methodically, packing his bag up and tugging his jacket on. Chris looks back at Scott, lost, and blurts, “I was going to call you tomorrow.”

The expression on Scott’s face stops Chris in his tracks.

“Jesus,” Scott breathes, eyes narrowing. “I can’t believe I was going to apologize for blowing you off! I felt like such a fucking tool, I went to your house to find you.”

Chris feels like he just got suckerpunched. Amy sent Scott here, knowing exactly what would happen.

“Let me get my jacket,” Chris tries, voice cracking. “We’ll talk, just…”

He trails off when he realizes Scott is no longer looking at him. Chris sees the exact moment his brother’s gaze narrows in on Sebastian instead.

“Scott,” he blurts, lurching to his feet, trying to keep his attention.

Scott, unfortunately, doesn’t bite.

“He told me about you at Christmas, you know,” Scott says, conversational. He leans to the side so he can direct his words around Chris, and adds, “I asked him who you were, but he wouldn’t even say your name.”

Jesus - Chris didn’t - Chris was never ashamed of Sebastian, he just - he didn’t want -

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian replies anyways, voice cracking.

“You should be,” Scott snaps back. “You should be good and goddamned sorry.”

Shocked by the acidity in his brother’s voice, Chris finally butts in with a, “Hey! Scott, it’s not - it isn’t his fault!”

Now that Chris is up and out of his chair, he realizes his body is shaking with adrenaline. He’s never been real good with confrontations, and this is a hell of a one to be in. Fight or flight is kicking in, he realizes, and these are those last infinite moments that lead to his fork in the road.

Chris wants to tell Scott: I didn’t think it would happen. But he did.

Chris wants to tell Scott: it didn’t mean anything. But it does.

Chris wants to say: I promise I won’t do it anymore. But he will.

“Scott,” he says, pained, trying to grapple his thoughts together. He doesn’t know how to articulate what he’s thinking in a way that will make sense. “Just, give me a second, here.”

His brother, unfortunately, has never really listened to him.

“I don’t care what happens to you,” Scott says, looking at Sebastian. “Whatever it is, you’ll deserve it.”

“I know,” Sebastian creaks out, voice tight. “I’m sorry.”

Scott doesn’t hesitate before snapping, “I don’t give a fuck that you’re sorry.”

“Scott!” Chris yells, horrified, and then, desperate, “Seb.”

He watches, paralyzed, as Sebastian leaves. When Sebastian walks close to Scott, needing to in order to reach the lobby, he bows to the side, like he’s afraid Scott is going to physically strike him.

Frustrated and overwhelmed, Chris rubs both hands over his face, and then up and through his hair.

“It wasn’t his fault,” he manages, unable to look anywhere above Scott’s feet.

Scott doesn’t say anything in return.

~

That night, Chris sleeps at the office.

~

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Elizabeth asks Sebastian gently. “You look… you look… off.”

Chris isn’t eavesdropping, he’s just standing outside the bathroom door. Sleeping on the reception couch didn’t go so well, and neither did brushing his teeth with his finger.

“Everything’s great,” Sebastian replies automatically, but Chris knows exactly what she means.

Sebastian looks drunk. Chris knows he looks drunk. He noticed the same thing when Sebastian came in this morning, already smelling like Jim Beam. They’ve only seen each other in the hallway today, right in front of Paul and Mackie, but Chris won’t forget the haunted light in Sebastian’s eyes for a very long time.

“I know,” Elizabeth replies carefully.

Chris hears the sound of coffee pouring. One mug, and then another.

He manages to make himself look busy when Sebastian comes around the corner, coffee in one hand.

“Hey,” he murmurs, desperate. His eyes flicker down to Sebastian’s hand. “Lunch today?”

Sebastian looks back at him, eyes glassy, and replies, “Sure.”

~

Chris has to go to the pharmacy to restock the tiny little first aid kit that sits in the bathroom.

A couple of days ago, someone who Chris will not name - Paul - cut his palm open while trying to slice up a bagel, and used up all their good bandaids. So he needs some of those. It’s also a good excuse to snag a little travel sized mouthwash.

While Chris is in the pharmacy, he sits down and sticks his arm into the free blood pressure machine.

“Huh,” he says to himself, watching as the little red numbers blink at way higher of a number than they probably should for a reasonably fit guy his age.

He looks to the side, to see if anyone is watching him, and carefully pulls his arm out of the sleeve.

~

Sebastian is cagey when Chris approaches him to head out for lunch later that afternoon.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Chris apologizes, as soon as they’re out on the sidewalk. “I didn’t know.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Sebastian replies, frowning. When Chris snorts, he sighs and rewords it, “It wasn’t just your fault. I should have known better, too.”

“Maybe,” Chris frowns, as they approach their usual lunch place. He holds the door open for Sebastian as he walks through, and then follows him in. “But he’s my brother. I should have said something. I was just so… I wasn’t expecting it to happen like that.”

Sebastian offers a hollow wave to their usual waitress, and says, “That makes two of us.”

“I slept at the office last night,” Chris continues, after they’ve found a table. Sebastian looks over at him, expression curious. “I needed some time to think.”

Sebastian looks terrified for a split second, and then he blurts, “You don’t have to - you can just say it.”

“Say what? What?” Chris asks, confused, before he realizes what Sebastian thinks - Sebastian thinks Chris is about to put his foot down, to end this thing that they’ve been doing together. “No! Seb, no. That isn’t what I mean at all. Do you really think I’d say that?”

Faltering, Sebastian glances to the side, to make sure nobody is listening, and then says, “She’s your wife.”

“Yeah, she is. And you’re my… you’re important to me, too,” Chris says seriously, eyebrows knotting. “I love you, and I mean that. That doesn’t change. Nothing changes that.”

“Sure,” Sebastian says, frowning a little bit.

Chris is about to continue, but their waitress walks up, pen at the ready. They get their usual fares - eggs and a coffee with Baileys for Sebastian, and pancakes and a regular coffee for Chris - and then Chris hunches forward, shoulders rounding in, as he looks at Sebastian, serious.

“I’m going to talk to Amy tonight,” he says. “I should have said something the day you ran into her. If I had done that, she wouldn’t have brought Scott into it.”

Looking vaguely seasick, Sebastian scratches his neck, and reaches for a sugar packet.

“My blood pressure is high,” Chris continues, when Sebastian doesn’t say anything.

That makes the corner of Sebastian’s mouth sneak up into a smile.

“Tell me about it,” he jokes, as the waitress comes back with their coffee.

~

Chris has never been as nervous as he is that evening.

He lurks around the office until well after everyone else has left. Sebastian, now nursing a headache from drinking all day, leaves last. He hugs Chris tight, and doesn’t let go for a very long time.

Now, Chris stands outside his brownstone - his home - breathing in the sharp fall air.

This is impossible. There’s no way out of this other than going through it. He’s going to tell Amy, and he’s going to lay it all out on the table. And he can handle whatever happens after.

He’s an adult. He’s helped raise two children. He owns a business that pays five salaries. He can handle it.

Breathing out slow, Chris drops his chin, and starts up the steps outside their home.

Inside, nothing is different. There’s the line of family portraits that hang all along the hallway, above the chair rail Chris spent an entire weekend attaching to the wall last year. There are Peyton’s light-up princess sneakers, and Austin’s flag football jersey. There’s the dog’s leash, and Amy’s rolled up yoga mat.

All signs that point to a family. A family lives here, Chris thinks, and he’s about to change that.

He kicks his shoes off and starts towards the kitchen, where he can hear Amy putting the dishes away.

When he steps into the doorway, she looks over at him, unsurprised.

“You’re back,” she states, closing the cupboard above her.

Chris holds both hands out, palms up - as close as he’s got to a white flag - and says, “Here I am.”

Amy looks at him once more, gaze trailing from his face to his feet and back up again, and then goes back to the dishwasher, untangling a piece of complicated looking tupperware from the top rack.

“I haven’t been honest with you. We both know that,” Chris manages, not moving from his spot in the doorway.

Amy doesn’t answer him, she just unloads another dish.

“Amy,” Chris says quietly. He waits for her to look over at him, and then adds, voice quiet, “I know you know. But I’m going to say it anyways.”

She straightens up at that, eyes haunted and unsure as she looks at him, twisting the dish towel in her hands as she eyes his, empty, now twisting together in front of his stomach.

“Say it,” she finally says, soft. Her eyes flicker up to meet his. _Mean it._

Chris’s face crumples a little - he knew this would be hard, and this is even harder than that. He never could have anticipated having this conversation with the woman he thought was the love of his life.

“I slept with someone else,” he starts, but then, that doesn’t really sum it up, does it? He falters for a minute, mouth working, nothing coming out, and then amends, “I’m sleeping with someone else.”

He doesn’t know what he was expecting. The crash of a broken dish. Hysterical sobbing. A punch.

Amy looks at him, steady, eyes a little bit watery, and then goes back to unloading the next mug.

“Amy,” Chris says quietly, voice cracking.

She picks up a mug - the one she always drinks from in the morning, purchased three years at Disney World - and that’s when Chris notices she’s shaking for the first time.

“Is it serious?” she asks quietly, not looking him in the eye.

Chris feels his gut flip. He blanks for a second, and then asks, horrified, “What do you mean, is it serious?”

“Are you fucking him?” she asks, staring at what she’s doing rather than at him. “Or do you love him?”

Mouth opening, Chris shakes his head, lost, and then manages, weak, “I can’t answer that, Amy. Don’t make me say that to you.”

She nods, more to herself than to communicate with Chris, and clears her throat as she gently slides the now empty dishwasher rack closed. Next, she bends down, and picks the door up, and clicks that closed, too.

“I need some time to think,” she says, voice wobbly. She doesn’t look at him.

That’s when Chris gets it. That’s when he understands.

He knows how Amy was raised: a millionaire father, and a mother who worked to keep up appearances. Amy is ready to pardon him if he’s willing to exalt his sins, but Sebastian is not and never has been a sin - and Chris is not willing to apologize for him just yet.

So, not knowing what else to do, Chris wipes his eyes, a little teary, and nods.

“I,” he starts, and then his voice breaks and Amy looks at him. He clears his throat and knots his eyebrows. “I’ll get a hotel room or, I, I can sleep at the office.”

Clearing her throat, Amy picks up a dishcloth, and begins to rub the counter methodically.

“Sure,” she says, like they’ve just decided to summer in the Bahamas. “Whatever you think is best.”

~

Chris packs a change of clothes, and walks back to the office.

The whole way he can’t help the way tears leak from his eyes. He wipes at them, mouth trembling, but can’t seem to get them to stop.

~

At night, the office is lonely.

Chris leaves his bag full of clothes underneath his desk - where Elizabeth won’t be able to find it and ask questions - and brushes his teeth in the employee bathroom sink. He sets the coffee timer for tomorrow at 6:30 am, and heads towards the front lobby.

The couch there isn’t comfortable, but it’s a flat surface, and Chris doesn’t plan on sleeping that much tonight.

Once he’s laying down, a little crunched up with his head at a funny angle, he pulls out his phone.

 _I talked to Amy_ , he tells Sebastian. _I told her. I don’t know what the next step is._

Sebastian’s little “...” pops up, and then disappears, and then pops up again.

It’s a couple of minutes before his reply comes through: _Are you okay?_

 _I don’t know yet_ , Chris replies, aiming for full honesty. _Ask me again in the morning?_

Sebastian replies, _I can do that,_ and then, _Goodnight._

 _You too, sweetheart,_ Chris texts back.

He sets his alarm for 6AM, just in case. 

~

The next morning, Chris is a zombie.

God, he must have slept an hour last night - and even that would be a generous estimate. He’s gotta rally before Elizabeth arrives, ugh. He shuffles to the kitchen to make himself another pot of coffee, and checks his texts while it drips.

Neither Sebastian nor Amy have sent him a message.

“Get it together,” he murmurs to himself, rubbing his face with both hands.

It’s entirely possible he manages to doze off while standing. One second he’s standing there and letting his eyes droop closed - just for a minute - and the next he’s startling back to life as Elizabeth lets the front door close behind her.

“Fuck,” he swears, picking up the thing of creamer he knocked over.

Elizabeth makes an appearance while he’s still desperately ripping handfuls of paper towel off the roll.

“Wow,” she laughs, pausing to set her bagged lunch in the fridge. Chris looks up from his puddle of creamer, and watches as she leans against the counter with one hip, expression critical. “You look like shit.”

Grimacing, Chris slops the wettest paper towels together, and throws them in the sink.

“Thanks,” he complains.

She watches him struggle for another minute before stepping forward to help.

“Up late?” she asks, opening the cupboard under the sink, and pulling the tiny garbage can out.

Chris frowns and dumps another round of soggy paper towels in.

“Peyton, uh,” he starts, too tired to think fast. “She, you know. Kept having nightmares.”

Elizabeth turns the tap on, so Chris can rinse his creamy hands off, and sticks the garbage can back under the sink. As she stands up, she flips her hair over her shoulder, and reaches for the dishrag.

“That sucks,” she frowns, cleaning up Chris’s mess. “Was she okay this morning?”

Chris accepts the paper towel she hands him to dry his hands off with. He frowns.

“Yeah, you know. Just kid stuff,” he says. He’s nervous. He clears his throat, and runs a hand through the hair on the back of his head. Change the subject, Chris. He balls the paper towel up and jokes, “Think I could swing a nap under my desk?”

Laughing, Elizabeth rights the paper towel roll Chris knocked over in his earlier haste, and starts back towards the hallway.

“Good luck,” she smiles over one shoulder. “Rumor has it that box in the hall is the ping pong table Mackie ordered.”

Oh, jesus. Chris laughs sharp, desperate, and leans hard on the counter again.

~

That afternoon, he, Paul, and Sebastian have a development meeting together.

“I’ll send you a copy of those dev notes,” Paul promises, lurching away from the table with his laptop tucked under one arm. He accidentally kicks the leg of a rolly chair, but forges ahead, saying, “Give me an hour to clean them up.”

With a yawn, Chris leans back in his chair at the head of the table, and tucks a hand up underneath each armpit.

“Sure,” he struggles out. 

Sebastian smiles at Paul - a real sincere “sorry, he’s kinda dumb” expression - and follows behind to close the door.

Suddenly, it’s just the two of them again. Chris blinks, and sees Sebastian’s face the night Scott walked in on them. He shakes his head, and watches as Sebastian props himself against the edge of the table. Sebastian sighs heavy, and then catches the expression on Chris’s face.

“What?” he asks, dipping down as Chris looks away, trying to hide it.

It’s like biting down on a sore tooth. Chris squints, and tries to shake the memory off.

“Nothing,” he says, putting on a smile. “I was just thinking that people really are gonna suspect some hanky panky if you go around closing doors behind everyone.”

Sebastian’s flat, worried mouth turns up into a smirk.

“Funny,” he deadpans.

Chris shrugs a little - I do what I can - and bites through his nervousness as they watch each other.

“Everything okay?” he finally asks, unable to take the serious expression on Sebastian’s face any longer.

Sighing heavy, Sebastian runs his hands over his thighs, and frowns.

“I feel bad about not inviting you over last night,” he admits. “I know you had nowhere to go.”

Chris is flabbergasted.

“I - what? Seb, no,” he babbles, grimacing and reaching out. “That’s the last thing I want!”

Sebastian looks down at him, shoulders slumped forward, and manages, “Still feel bad.”

“I know it’s… it’s hard,” Chris starts, wobbly footed. He knots his eyebrows together. “But Seb, I, I don’t want you to think you’re responsible for all this stuff with Amy. It’s my mess to clean up. And it’s not your fault - fuck what my brother said.”

A soft frown tugs the corners of Sebastian’s mouth down.

“I know,” he admits. “But sometimes it feels like it is.”

Chris watches Sebastian some more, and then sighs, “This is all new to me too, pal.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian echoes, still frowning. He studies Chris’s expression, gaze flicking from Chris’s eyes to his mouth to his eyes again, and then asks, “Are you okay?”

That… is a question Chris has never really considered the answer to. He shrugs.

“I’m tired,” he reviews, honest, before sitting back to rub his face, rough with himself. “I’m confused.”

Sebastian’s frown turns into a little bit of a smile. He kicks the side of Chris’s shoe.

“Nothing new there,” he teases, gentle.

Chris rests his elbow on the arm of his chair, and sets his cheek on his fist with a smile.

“Mean,” he teases back.

They watch each other for a long minute, and then Sebastian offers up one last tight pulse of a smile. The squeeze of someone’s hand in yours that comes before doing something you can’t take back.

He’s nervous, Chris realizes.

“If you want,” Sebastian starts - and here’s a guy who can shoot the shit in front of an audience, but is afraid at this afternoon’s table of one. He frowns, licks his lips, and offers, “You can stay with me. If you want.”

Chris’s heart squeezes.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice suddenly rough.

More than anything else, Chris wants to say yes. It would be an easy decision to make: an instant set-up to a brand new life.

But it wouldn’t help anything.

When Sebastian realizes Chris is not saying yes, his expression changes. His smile loosens: he’s relieved, too.

“Hey,” he whispers, ducking his head closer to Chris’s. “Think you can beat me at ping pong?”

Chris laughs, and leans into Sebastian’s presence.

“You’re on,” he whispers back. “Me and you, sweetheart.”

“Me and you,” Sebastian echoes, and then hesitates before smacking a quick kiss to Chris’s lips.

~

That night, alone and sitting in the sober dark again, Chris calls Amy.

He gets her voicemail.

“Hi, uh, it’s me,” he stumbles, off to his usual bumbling start. “I was hoping we could talk. I’m not going to go on and on, I promise, I just - well. I don’t know what to do next. That’s - that’s. Well. Nevermind. I’m, uh. I’m at the office, so… just so you know. Okay, bye. Thanks. Bye.”

Chris hangs up, and immediately covers his face with both hands.

Five minutes later, he gets a text from Amy:

_Sure. I’m at home._

Home. Right. Chris looks at his bag, spilling clothes underneath his desk, and then back to their conversation.

 _Ok,_ he replies. And then, because that’s a little bit vague, he adds, _I’m on my way now._

Amy doesn’t reply, but Chris figures it’s deserved.

~

She’s outside on the deck smoking - correction, chain smoking - cigarettes when Chris gets there.

As he walks down the shadowy hallway and into their kitchen, he flashes back to Sebastian, standing on that balcony in San Francisco. He shakes his head, trying to forget the way Sebastian’s body looked behind the gauzy curtain.

Jesus, he needs to get a grip.

Dodger spots him first. He looks up, eyebrow whiskers bobbing, and then starts to wag his tail on the floor.

“Hi bud,” Chris greets quietly, taking a seat in the deck chair beside his wife.

Amy exhales smoke into Chris’s face.

“The kids keep asking where you are,” she says, gaze trained at the dark, black, yard. The grass is a few inches too tall, its length a symptom of Chris’s revolving door trick. Taking a long drag of her cigarette, Amy bounces her foot a few times, and admits, “I never know what to say.”

He didn’t think about that.

“I’m sorry,” he frowns, not knowing what else to say.

With a snort, Amy rolls her eyes, and ashes her cigarette. Her whole body is pulled tight, the arrow of a bow trained on Chris’s head and poised to strike at any moment.

“All you had to do was tell me,” she says quietly. “I would have made it easy for you.”

Chris’s chest flushes hot. It’s not from guilt, it’s the swift drop of a missed opportunity.

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” he admits, watching the dog because it’s easier than looking at the expression on his wife’s face. “Shit, Amy, I still don’t know what I’m doing. This is the last thing I expected would happen.”

Snorting, Amy rolls her eyes and says, “Just a victim of circumstance, huh?”

“That’s not… that’s not what I mean,” Chris stumbles out, but that’s what it sounded like, isn’t it?

Amy makes it obvious she’s done with him for tonight. Stubbing out her cigarette, she gets out of the deck chair, gathers her phone and cigarettes up, and heads for the kitchen door.

“I’m going to bed,” she says, glancing back at him. “You can do whatever it is you’re going to do.”

Chris just watches her. He doesn’t have anything to say, and he doesn’t want to get into a fight. Not tonight.

Sighing, he gives Amy a head start, so they don’t bump into each other in the time it takes her to get the rest of her things and head upstairs.

He waffles with his phone, and debates texting Sebastian, but he doesn’t know what he’d say.

~

“It’s Halloween in two weeks,” Elizabeth announces the next day, when everyone is in the kitchen wrangling four gigantic bags of lunchtime take out. “What’s the vote? Dinner? Party?”

Reaching for a spoon of egg rice, Sebastian raises his eyebrows and says, “Booze.”

“Hi, have we met?” Elizabeth counters, unscrewing their communal bottle of soy sauce and extending one hand across the table, like she’s going to shake Sebastian’s hand. “I’m Elizabeth, and I have a theme drink pinned for everything.”

Sebastian laughs and shakes her hand, and then they’re splitting up the rest of the food and settling in around the bench seating that runs along the center of the kitchen floor.

“How about a costume contest?” Paul asks, mouth full of noodles.

Elizabeth points at him with an excited glint in her eye, and starts to write out a list of demands on the back of a napkin.

“The budget is a hundred bucks,” Chris supplies, leaning to the side so he can wiggle his wallet out of his front pocket.

He unceremoniously lets five twenty dollar bills drift down to the middle of the table.

“That’s one stripper,” Mackie comments, making everyone laugh.

~

Everyone knows this is Chris’s favorite time of year.

Halloween. Thanksgiving. Christmas.

Every year up until this year, he’s had a little pep in his step - even after everything that happened at Elizabeth’s wedding. But this year, things are different.

There are spooky specials on TV and the threat of red cups at Starbucks right around the corner, but Chris is struggling to feel the joy in any of it. He and Amy have figured exactly nothing out: they are very explicitly aware that things are not going to work, but jesus, how do you explain that to children?

Chris doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand how anyone does this.

Some nights, it feels like slow dancing in a burning room. Between the nights spent at Sebastian’s and the way Amy looks at him in the morning, the fire alarm has been pulled, but neither of them can figure out where the emergency escapes are.

It’s purgatory.

On the night of the office Halloween party, the kids are shipped off to Amy’s mom's for a marathon of candy and cartoons. And - because Elizabeth sent out invites to everyone and their significant others on Facebook - Amy decides to tag along. 

Chris is lurking around in the living room, wondering if he can get away with “lumberjack” in his jeans and a flannel shirt, when Amy hands over a plastic bag.

“What is it?” he asks, suspicious.

“If less is more, there’s no end to me, Peter Pan,” she throws over one shoulder.

Frowning, Chris opens the bag, and peeks inside. _No_. With a grimace he reaches in, and pulls out the crumpled costume: green tights, and a very suspiciously sized, lighter green, tunic.

“I can’t wear this,” he yells after her, but she doesn’t reply.

~

He does wear the fucking Peter Pan outfit.

There’s no way out of it after Chris finds out Amy has already mentioned it to Elizabeth.

 _Can’t wait to see those skinny ass legs in some tights,_ Elizabeth texts him, followed by a bird emoji.

Chris packs himself into the tights, pulls on the tunic, and wearily eyes Amy as she walks into the living room in her Tinkerbell outfit, all sugar and smiles.

“There’s my Peter Pan,” she says. “Now, think of the happiest things.”

Chris grimaces at her, and heads into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

By the time he’s done and in the kitchen, their Uber is about to arrive. Amy already has her jacket on, just a tease of glittery green fabric hanging below the hem. She’s smoking into the air vent over the sink.

“Didn’t think you’d start up again,” Chris says honestly, coming to stand beside her as he cracks the cap off a bottle of beer. They both stare out at the yard. “Figured you’d quit for good.”

Without missing a beat, she replies, “Yeah, there’s one thing I thought you were done with, too.”

“Ouch,” Chris laughs, pretending to cringe as he lifts his beer up to his mouth and adds, “That’s cold.”

She doesn’t answer, just gives him one of those Crest whitestrip, popstar smiles he fell in love with about a hundred years ago, and stubs her cigarette out. Chris drinks his beer quietly, and watches from the corner of his eye as she heads back out into the front hall.

Their Uber ride is short and quiet. Amy makes conversation with the driver like nothing has changed, but Chris notices the tone of her voice, the performative way she laughs and teases. He pulls at his tights, and wishes he’d had the forethought to pre-game with two beers instead of just one.

He takes to distracting himself with his phone, where he is sharply reminded of the year prior by Facebook. He and Amy took the kids trick or treating: Peyton was a princess, she always is, and Austin was a Ninja Turtle.

This year, Chris is helming that activity by himself, and Amy is going over to Brie’s.

Jesus. He can’t look at that anymore. He clicks the screen off, and leans his head back against the seat.

At the curb in front of the office, Chris leaves Amy with her heel stuck in the door of the Uber. The lobby is a graveyard, the only light coming off the small lamp on Elizabeth’s desk, so Chris stands in the dark and tries to pull himself together.

 _We’re here_ , he texts Seb, because a head’s up is the very least he can do.

As he’s sliding his phone back into his pocket, Amy comes through the front door behind him. The orange and black streamers hanging from the ceiling sway.

“My husband, the apple of my eye,” she announces to no one, a slow, sarcastic drawl to her voice.

Chris feels his phone buzz in his jacket pocket, but he doesn’t have the nerve to pull it out while Amy is still beside him. Instead, he rolls his eyes, and starts through to the kitchen, where Elizabeth has set up the booze, food, and what he suspects are party games.

“Oh my god,” he surprises himself by laughing, as he comes around the corner to find the kitchen bathed in black lights and cobwebs. On the other side of the room, Elizabeth cracks up. As Chris tries to make his way over to her, he holds one hand out in front of his face, and asks, “How do you see anything?!”

Everyone is here already. Elizabeth and her husband, Paul and his girlfriend, Mackie and the girl he met on Tinder two weeks ago. Sebastian. Chris’s laugh fades into a soft smile.

“Wow, thanks,” Amy laughs from behind him, immediately accepting the bright green martini Elizabeth hands over.

“I call it the Gravedigger,” Elizabeth grins, proud of herself as she hands Chris one, too.

Chris looks down into the martini glass, which feels doll sized in his suddenly nervous hand, and laughs again as he realizes there’s a plastic dollar store eyeball floating at the bottom.

“Careful, it’s a choking hazard,” Paul supplies from Chris’s left side, as he steps up to the table to grab a handful of Cheetos. “You’d think an adult wouldn’t swallow it, but you’d be wrong.”

Grinning, Chris offers a genuine, “Noted,” - especially after he notices the eyeball suspiciously missing from Paul’s half empty martini glass - and picks up an equally small square napkin. It’s also eyeball themed.

“You know,” Amy says, munching on a chip as she critically eyes Sebastian’s costume. A cream colored hoodie and a gold crown made out of scrapbooking paper. Max, from Where the Wild Things Are. “My kids love that book.”

Chris feels the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up. There’s no way Sebastian knew that - it’s nothing but a coincidence - and he finds himself physically cringing as Sebastian fumbles the baby carrot he’s been chasing around the veggie platter.

“It’s a classic,” Chris says, unnecessarily, filling the silence as he stands, awkward, between them.

Giving up on the carrot, Sebastian picks up his martini glass, offers Chris a flat look, and replies, “So’s Peter Pan.”

~

Elizabeth and her husband win the costume contest, which everyone roasts them about rigging.

In-between a rousing candy corn relay race, and a round of Polaroid group photos, Chris catches a quiet moment with Sebastian. 

It’s the first moment they’ve had alone with one another all night. Mackie and his Tinder date have left, and Elizabeth is showing Paul and Amy a bunch of pictures of the new place she and her husband are renting a few blocks away.

“The tights are a good look,” Sebastian says seriously, tone low and flat until his expression trembles and cracks and he lets out a helpless laugh.

Chris finishes picking through the rest of his vampire themed cupcake - otherwise decimated by the ten minutes he’s spent pushing it around his plate with a fork - and raises his eyebrows in surprise, laughing a little as he looks over at Sebastian.

“Is that right?” he teases back, feeling like himself for the first time all night.

Sebastian wrinkles the bridge of his nose up and counters, “That’s right.”

“Well, you better like it, pal,” Chris replies, smoothing out the fabric over his thighs. “This is my new look.”

Laughing, Sebastian drops his head back and lets go for the first time all night.

~

“I want CANDY!” Peyton screams, bouncing up and down on the couch in her princess outfit.

In the front hall, Chris is trying to fumble the last layer of Austin’s store bought Chewbacca costume on. It doesn’t fit him right for some reason, every time Chris gets the last button up, Austin flexes and busts out of it in a way that Chris can’t even figure out.

“We’re leaving in a minute,” he snaps, giving up and steadying himself with one hand on Austin’s head as he pushes himself back to his feet.

He immediately steps around Austin, who is still fussing with the hairy gloves hanging from each wrist, and reaches for his phone.

Sebastian is currently half an hour late.

“Hey, where are you?” Chris asks his voicemail a few minutes later, as he’s trying to work a jacket over Peyton’s gigantic tulle covered costume. A little out of breath, Chris adds, “We have to leave, but call me when you get this. Maybe we can still meet up.”

Chris locks the dog in the kitchen, and gets the kids out the front door.

Sebastian never returns his call.

~

When Amy gets home from Brie’s around midnight, Chris is sitting on the living room couch watching TV and eating the kids candy.

They don’t say anything to one another. Amy goes directly upstairs, holding onto the bannister with one hand like she’s had a few glasses too many, and Chris turns off the TV. After tossing the skeletal remains of his stolen trick or treating wares, he grabs his work bag, and heads for the front door.

He’s in front of Sebastian’s apartment building fifteen minutes later.

“C’mon,” he whispers to himself, as he alternates between buzzing Sebastian’s intercom, and calling him on his phone.

Chris has been there for ten minutes when one of Sebastian’s neighbors gets home.

She’s dressed like a black cat, and looks at Chris curiously for a second before she asks, “You’re looking for Sebastian?”

“Yeah,” Chris replies, trying not to sound too desperate as she fishes her keys out of her purse, still eyeing him critically from behind her blackened nose and drawn on whiskers. “He isn’t answering his phone, or his buzzer, and, uh, we were supposed to meet at seven.”

Sebastian’s neighbor nods - she’s probably seen him around lately, drunk and stupid - and unlocks the front door of the apartment building. She holds it open for Chris before she even takes a step inside.

Chris whispers a quick “thanks” to her, and then bolts up the stairs. He takes them three at a time. By the time he’s on Sebastian’s floor, his heart is pounding in his ears, and his brain is leading him in all kinds of scary, horrifying directions.

The keys still hanging out of Sebastian’s apartment door lock hardly ease his fears.

“Jesus,” he whispers to himself, gently removing the keys before opening the door.

He steps into Sebastian’s living room - still dark - and closes the door behind himself, letting it shut gently before he turns around and quietly slides the bolt over.

As Chris sets Sebastian’s house keys down in the same little dish Sebastian always does, he calls out, “Seb?”

Silence. The pit of fear in the very bottom of Chris’s gut deepens. There’s nothing out of place that Chris can see - the living room curtains haven’t even been closed for the night - but it feels strange, different. Heavy energy.

Making his way through Sebastian’s apartment doesn’t take long. 

Chris checks the kitchen quickly, and then the bathroom, and then there’s nothing left other than Sebastian’s bedroom. 

He’s momentarily relieved to see that Sebastian is in bed, safe and sound, but then his heart sinks. Sebastian is starfished across the mattress, passed out. His pants are undone, and his fingers are still twisted up in his fly, like he was trying to get them down.

Frowning, Chris quickly, quietly, crosses the room.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, crouching down at the side of the bed. He touches Sebastian’s shoulder.

Sebastian doesn’t respond, but he’s breathing. Chris doesn’t let himself think about what could have happened if Sebastian passed out on his back and threw up. He doesn’t let himself think about what could have happened if he’d been ten minutes, half an hour, two hours, too late.

If he decided not to come at all.

Blinking back tears, Chris gently moves Sebastian’s hands away from his fly, and kneels at Sebastian’s feet to take his shoes off first, and then his socks. 

He tugs Sebastian’s jeans down, frowning at how wet they are around the heels, and wiggles Sebastian out of his leather jacket. It’s just as hard to do as it was to get Austin into his costume earlier. 

A little out of breath, Chris strips out of his own clothes quickly, until he’s down to just a t-shirt and his underwear, and then he rolls Sebastian onto his side, and crawls up behind him, tucking his knees against the back of Sebastian’s thighs.

Chris wraps his arms around Sebastian’s waist, and rests his nose against the nape of Sebastian’s neck. He feels cold.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, closing his eyes against the tears trapped in his lashes. He’s sorry for everything. He’s never let someone down the way he has done to Sebastian. “Sweetheart, god.”

Sebastian doesn’t reply.

~

Sebastian wakes up in the early hours of the next morning.

He makes a hurt noise, and then brings a hand up to hold onto his own head. Chris blinks, tired and still a little bit asleep, as Sebastian presses himself back down into the pillow and Chris’s arm, like they will relieve him from his hangover.

Chris can’t do that, but he presses a kiss to the back of Sebastian’s head anyways.

“When you didn’t answer your phone last night, I thought you didn’t want to see me anymore,” Chris says quietly, eyes closed tight as he whispers his greatest fears into Sebastian’s hair. “When you didn’t answer your buzzer, I thought you were dead. All I could think was, god. Please don’t let anything happen to him.”

Sebastian doesn’t move, but Chris feels a tear drip from Sebastian’s eye onto his forearm.

“I didn’t mean to,” Sebastian says, voice rough, a few minutes later. “I didn’t mean to drink that much. I know we had plans.”

“You scared the shit out of me,” Chris laughs, voice wet. He pulls back a little bit to wipe his nose off on the sleeve of his t-shirt. When he moves back in against Sebastian’s neck, he squeezes his arms a little tighter, unable to let go. A little bewildered, Chris reiterates, “I was so scared.”

It takes Sebastian a minute, but he wiggles himself around, until they’re face to face.

“I know,” he replies, looking a little seasick despite himself. He presses a kiss to Chris’s hand.

Chris nods, watching, and they fall back asleep as the first tendrils of real sunlight begin to worm their way through Sebastian’s bedroom curtains.

~

The following Monday, Chris is at work, photocopying a set of mission statements.

One second he’s watching the papers whip through the copier, eyes unfocused and brain wandering, and the next his entire body is beginning to creep with adrenaline. That strange, upside down feeling focusing in on his heart and his stomach.

The copy machine is halfway through its job when he has a panic attack.

“You’re fine,” Chris tells himself shakily, heart pounding fast and reckless in his chest. His head his fuzzy. His face is clammy. His body doesn’t care that he thinks he’s fine. His chest feels tight. Oh god, he’s having a heart attack, and he’s going to die right here in the photocopy closet.

Suddenly out of breath, Chris abandons his task, and starts walking. As the adrenaline courses through him, he realizes his hands are shaking, and his knees feel weak and wobbly. What if his throat closes up and he can’t get air and he dies?

Sebastian, sitting at his desk working on his laptop, sees the look on Chris’s face immediately.

“Hey,” he says, watching as Chris fumbles over to his desk, hands and legs shaking from the never-ending flush of adrenaline jolting throughout his body. “What’s wrong?”

Chris’s throat is so tight, he can’t talk.

Instead, he makes eye contact and shakes his head. Sebastian looks even more alarmed, and watches as Chris sits down at his desk and fumbles for his Ativan.

Once he’s got one in his mouth, he leans back in his chair, eyes pinched closed, and waits for it to be over. Nothing happens. When he opens his eyes again, Sebastian is hovering in front of him, face worried and expression pulled tight.

“I’m sorry,” Chris manages, voice tight and weird. The pill is working slowly, but his terror ridden body is trying to fight through its effects anyways. “I’m freaked out.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian frowns, crouching to kneel between Chris’s legs. He rests a hand on Chris’s knee and looks up at him as he asks, “Can I help?”

Chris shakes his head, eyes wide and scared, and surprises himself when he starts crying.

He’s not sad. He’s not even particularly anxious, now that the pill is kicking in. 

He just doesn’t know what else to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE ALMOST THERE! Just one chapter plus the epilogue left - and they'll be posted at the same time.
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who has commented or kudosed this fic, it's been such a trek and I really appreciate all of your kind feedback!!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowwwwwww I cannot believe the time has finally OFFICIALLY come for this.
> 
> You can all thank @adios-esposito for sending me a Halsey song almost one year ago (we're about two and a half weeks off) and the comment "wouldn't this be the saddest evanstan au ever?"
> 
> Seriously thank you to everyone who left a comment or kudos on this story over the last few months. I know I haven't always replied to every comment, but I really do appreciate your thoughts and that you've stuck with this shit this long.
> 
> This is the final chapter. I'll post the epilogue next, and then, my playlists as the 17th "chapter."
> 
> ENJOY 

The photocopier is the title card to Chris’s new life.

It’s a deep rabbit hole: the knife edge between comfort, and claustrophobia. Sometimes, Chris gets too deep. He forgets to come up and feel the sun on his face. Playing dead excuses him from the never-ending anxiety, the panic attacks that roll like the ocean.

On good days, Chris is alone in the dirt.

“Daddy,” Peyton loudly demands, looking at Chris’s face from about four inches away.

He snaps out of it, because his daughter doesn’t give him the option not to. She doesn’t care that Chris is buried in the dirt.

“I’m listening,” he lies, hoisting her further up his hip.

The goal is to add a box of cereal to their shopping cart, but jesus, when did cereal companies start pumping out so many options? Every brand name takes up about three square feet of shelf space: extra grain, no grain, strawberry, blueberry, peanut free, peanut butter…

Chris looks down at his phone, and consults the rudimentary shopping list he cobbled together: milk, cereal, bread.

“Why is mommy always mad at you?” Peyton asks, curling her tiny fingers against the nape of Chris’s neck.

“What?” Chris blurts. He shouldn’t - it would be better not to make a big deal out of it - but… but. He clears his throat, and tries to keep his voice level. “Who told you that?”

Peyton shrugs one shoulder up to her ear, and palms her face, suddenly bashful.

“Nobody told me,” she says. “I guess I just told myself.”

Chris abandons his cereal mission. He picks their basket up off the floor, and evacuates the scene of the crime.

“Mommy isn’t mad,” he finally manages, awkwardly navigating the two of them around a sharp corner.

One cheek now rested against the curve of Chris’s shoulder, Peyton picks at the hem of his shirt with her finger and thumb, and whispers, “Okay.”

~

On Monday, Chris has a doctor’s appointment for the sole purpose of getting a refill on his prescription.

That’s why he doesn’t get into work until late.

“You’re here,” Elizabeth blurts, standing up the second Chris walks through the door. He knots his eyebrows - wow, that’s a scary expression on her face - but before he can ask what’s going on, she says, “Seb is in a meeting. You need to get in there, now.”

“Fuck,” Chris breathes.

She nods at him, forehead wrinkled up with stress and worry, and then helps peel Chris out of his jacket.

“He showed up that way,” she calls after him, as Chris takes off in a jog down the hallway.

On good days, Chris is alone in the dirt. On bad days, Sebastian sinks down, and joins him.

He pauses outside the conference room, trying to take a breath, trying to steady the heavy clunk of his heart in his throat. And then he twists the knob, and presses the door open

“You wanna hear about returns?” Sebastian is asking the room at large, voice untempered. Loud. He stumbles backwards, steadying himself with one arm stretched across the presentation podium, and blindly points the slide remote over one shoulder. As he clicks to the next slide, he notices Chris’s arrival, and laughs, “Oh, hello! Good morning!”

Everyone sitting at the table turns to stare at Chris.

Offering an awkward close mouthed smile and a nod, Chris shuffles his way along the length of the table, and nervously takes a seat at the very back.

“Meet Chris Evans,” Sebastian grins, wide, at their audience. “The apple of my eye.”

Chris has met every person at this children’s table. Regardless, he offers up a lame three fingered wave, and a flustered, “Hi.”

“This is all numbers,” Sebastian complains to himself, back to the table as he clicks through a series of Mackie’s slides, one right after the other. Laughing to himself, he adds, “Who cares about that! Numbers are for accountants!”

It is hot in here? It feels hot in here. Chris looks over at the windows - suicide panes, despite being street level - and tugs at the collar of his shirt. He’s sweating. He can’t breathe. If he tries to interject now, he and Sebastian are going to get into an argument in front of the entire table.

The rest of the meeting lasts forever, and is over in the blink of an eye.

Chris shows their circus audience out.

“Sorry about that,” he apologizes stupidly, shaking another hand. “Sorry about that.”

He accompanies the group to the lobby, and then out the front door, where he pats backs and apologizes in quiet mutters until everyone has disappeared into Ubers and cabs.

When he turns back into the lobby, Elizabeth is sitting at the reception desk.

“I’m sorry,” he says miserably, apologizing to her now since he’s already on the tour. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

Elizabeth gives him a look.

“Sure,” she says - eventually.

Chris stares back hopelessly, lost in his misery, and runs a hand through his hair.

He’s a mess. They’re a mess. They didn’t fight. Last night they ate dinner together. They watched a movie and had sex and kissed through the crack in the door frame as Chris was leaving. He didn’t get home until well after 3AM - that’s, what, seven hours? - and still, Sebastian ended up here, like this.

“You should take him home,” Elizabeth says. “Do you want me to get a car?”

Rubbing at his chest - god, his chest hurts - Chris swallows, and nods.

“Yeah,” he manages, hoarse. “Give me a minute.”

When Chris returns to the scene of the crime, Sebastian is sitting in one of the conference chairs at the table.

“Hi, pal,” Chris sighs, closing the door. They’ve had enough of an audience for one day. “Are you okay?”

It never gets easier to see Sebastian like this: unresponsive, emotionless. So wasted he’s non-verbal.

Chris reaches one hand out, intending to rub Sebastian’s shoulder, but his fingers have only brushed the fabric of Sebastian’s shirt when he reacts, and roughly shoves Chris away.

“Hey!” Chris snaps, stumbling backwards at the surprise. 

If leaving this room was tantamount to flipping a coin up into the sky, Chris has returned with the wrong call. He watches as Sebastian rubs his face, rough with himself, and hiccups.

“Elizabeth is getting us an Uber,” Chris says. He keeps his hands to himself this time. “Will you let me take you home?”

Sebastian hiccups again, hands dropping between his knees. He looks lost, and it makes Chris want to shout, “I’m RIGHT HERE!”

“Seb,” he whispers instead. “Please.”

Lurching forward, Sebastian catches himself before he falls out of the chair, and sits back, eyes closed.

He manages a, “Yeah,” and jesus, that’s good enough for Chris.

~

By the time the car rolls up in front of Sebastian’s apartment, Sebastian is passing out against Chris’s shoulder.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Chris breathes, trying to keep them both upright as they stumble across the width of the sidewalk.

They’re so close. Chris makes a face, trying to shift Sebastian’s weight, and focuses on the door just a few feet away. This is harder than it looks - god, this is so much harder than it looks. Every step Chris takes has Sebastian’s head flopping to and fro, but he just doesn’t have the extra hands to stop it.

Chris is the only reason Sebastian is even on his feet.

“I didn’t mean to do it,” Sebastian groans, fingers curling into Chris’s bicep.

Out of breath, Chris props Sebastian against the bike rack outside his building, and digs around in his pockets for the keys.

“I know you didn’t,” Chris pants. He squints down at the unfamiliar key ring in his hands.

It takes another twenty minutes to get Sebastian up the stairs, but moving helps sober him up. Once they’re in Sebastian’s apartment, Chris pours a glass of water, and makes Sebastian sit on the couch and chug it. Sebastian swears he’s going to puke, but Chris makes him drink it anyways.

The rest of the work day is shot. Chris texts Elizabeth at one, and tells her neither of them are gonna make it back. 

He throws in an extra apology, just in case.

~

That night, Chris makes it back home before dinner.

Sebastian fell asleep, straight from drunk to hungover, when the sun went down. Chris left not long after.

As Chris gets in the front door, he kicks his shoes off, and hangs his jacket up in the closet. He can hear Austin playing his video games in the living room, and the sound of Amy clinking dishes together in the kitchen down the hall.

Chris is suddenly exhausted. He realizes he’s homesick for a time and place that no longer exists.

“Daddy!” Peyton exclaims, whipping around the corner from the other room.

She grins up at him, eyes sparkling.

“Hey buddy,” Chris smiles, breaking into a laugh when she runs directly into his thighs. He bends over to pick her up - it’s easy, god, he dreads the day he’ll unknowingly do this for the last time - and asks, “What did you get up to today, huh?”

As she lists off her entire day, point form, Chris makes his way down the hall. He snags the mail Amy has left for him on the side table.

“Hi bud,” he says to Austin, passing behind his son to flop back into the couch, Peyton still on one hip.

Austin offers up a disinterested, “Hi,” without pausing his game.

“Did you get my text?” Amy greets, shouting through to the living room from the kitchen.

Frowning, Chris narrowly dodges one of Peyton’s heels smacking him in the face as she demonstrates a roll she learned in gymnastics, and yells back, “No! I was busy!”

“For fuck’s sake Chris,” she snaps, but doesn’t elaborate.

Chris watches Peyton go through a rocket launch sequence of tumbling moves, and then grabs her around the waist and exclaims in a funny voice, “Wow! Wow, wow, wow.”

She cracks up giggling, and tries to knock his hands away as she wiggles out of his embrace.

~

He’s having one of those nights again.

The doctor gave him sleeping pills, but with their laundry list of side effects, Chris isn’t sure if he wants to take one - especially with a wife who wouldn’t care if he walked out into traffic.

With a sigh, Chris tilts his head back against the couch cushions, and closes his eyes. He’s exhausted, but he isn’t tired. He listens to Amy clunking around upstairs, walking between the bathroom and the bedroom, and then the familiar footpath she takes to check the kids.

The last thing Chris hears is the suction of a TV commercial disappearing as she closes the bedroom door behind herself.

Chris opens his eyes, and looks over at his sad quilt, sitting folded up and lonely at the other end of the couch.

He should be the one to leave. Sebastian is going - has gone - from drinking to cope, to completely dysfunctional. His children are casualties of the unknowing war zone they’ve been included in. There’s no hope at salvaging a friendship between he and Amy.

Maybe if he had said something before he made a move on Sebastian. Maybe if he’d been honest.

Running a hand through his hair, Chris reaches for his phone, and thumbs open he and Sebastian’s texts. The last one is the goodnight message Chris sent after leaving Sebastian’s earlier tonight, and before that, the short convo they had before meeting up at Sebastian’s apartment the night before.

He doesn’t delete messages anymore.

It’s a long while that he spends looking at their texts, scrolling back weeks, all the way to summer. Something about it - the routine _see you soon :)_ s and quick, almost domestic, messages - make Chris smile.

Thanksgiving is right around the corner, and Amy has already made it perfectly clear that she’ll be taking the kids to her parents alone. There’s no way Chris is showing up at his mom’s, by himself, and with Scott to face. He hasn’t talked to his brother since that night at the office.

It’s that train of thought that leads him to typing _vacation in Connecticut_ into Google.

Maybe… maybe he and Sebastian could go away for a few days. It would be nice to get some time together that doesn’t include drinking and marriage and work. 

Mind made up, Chris flips back to his messages, and asks Sebastian, _What are you doing for Thanksgiving?_

 _No plans,_ Sebastian texts back immediately. He must have just woken up. _Office party?_

_I’m thinking further than that._

_...dinner party?_

Smiling, Chris types, _How do you feel about Connecticut?_

_I’m open to opinions._

With a laugh, Chris replies, _In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow._

 _Bright and early, sunshine,_ Sebastian sends back. _Get some sleep._

~

Sure as shit, Chris rolls up to Sebastian the next morning, and flops two plane tickets next to his coffee.

“What the?...” Sebastian asks, surprised, as he picks them up.

Grinning, Chris props himself at the edge of Sebastian’s desk, and looks down at the tickets now in Sebastian’s hands.

“Next time someone asks what you’re doing for Thanksgiving,” Chris says quietly, slouching low so nobody overhears their conversation, “Tell them you have plans.”

~

The news that he’ll be missing Thanksgiving doesn’t go over so well with his kids.

“Why can’t daddy come!” Peyton yells, throwing her fork to the ground.

Behind the kitchen island, Amy presses her mouth into a straight line, and looks down at her dinner plate.

“I have to work, pal,” Chris says, gentle as he can, as he reaches to push a piece of hair back behind Peyton’s ear. “You’ll have lots of fun with grandma and grandpa, though.”

“No!” Peyton yells, not having it, as she slaps Chris’s hand away and starts to cry.

Amy gives up her station at the counter. She walks over, snapping at Chris, “I told you to wait.”

“Don’t get mad at daddy!” Peyton screams, now red in the face and covered in tears.

It isn’t until Amy tries to pick her up that Chris reels back to life. He watches Peyton wiggle furiously, dropping her weight to stop Amy from lifting her out of her chair.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Chris tries, at a loss, saving her with one hand on her belly when she almost slides straight to the floor.

Amy gives up, leaving Peyton to wail and cry.

Not knowing what else to do, Chris sits, numb, and brushes the tears off his daughter’s cheeks.

~

All of a sudden, they have an official date for the app’s soft launch.

“Party time,” Elizabeth grins, holding one hand out for some cash.

~

It should be a crucial moment in Chris’s career: this is what he’s been working towards for years.

Instead, here he is. Fretting.

“I can tell Amy not to come,” Chris frowns, digging into his waffles.

Sebastian, on the other side of the table, looks vaguely seasick.

It isn’t Elizabeth’s fault. There’s no way she could have known Amy shouldn’t be invited to the party. You know, being the CEO’s wife and all.

“It’s fine,” Sebastian lies. He reaches for his coffee cup, and jokes, “If I’m going to fuck someone’s husband, I should be able to look them in the eye.”

Chris frowns. His forkful of waffles only makes it halfway to his mouth before he pauses.

“Don’t treat yourself like that,” he says, serious. “You deserve better than that.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian sighs. He risks a glance over at Chris. “You know, sometimes I really think I do.”

~

Back at the office, Chris texts Amy.

_If you don’t want to come tonight, you don’t have to, he says._

Ten minutes later, she replies, _Oh honey, I’ll be there with bells on._

~

True to her word, Amy shows up right on time with freshly toned hair.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” Paul’s girlfriend exclaims, coming up to Amy before she and Chris can cross paths.

Amy is always everyone’s best friend. She prefers it that way. Chris leaves them to it.

He’s itchy with anxiety by the time he finds Sebastian. Sebastian started off the day with a little something in his coffee, and had a bourbon on the rocks in one hand by the time five o’clock rolled around. 

Now, he’s standing in the kitchenette with Elizabeth, holding onto the edge of the counter with one hand. She’s trying to feed him a cheese sandwich and plate their appies at the same time.

“Hey, I can help,” Chris says softly, stepping up.

Elizabeth gives him a look - she’s figured him out, Chris realizes, she gets it now - but acquiesces and hands the plate over.

“He threw back another thing before I could stop him,” she says quietly, gesturing to the melting ice in a glass at the edge of the counter. It’s empty, just a thin membrane of booze along the bottom of the glass.

Chris watches her, and nods, and says quietly, “I got it.”

“Sure,” she frowns, stacking a plate on the inside of each elbow before she grabs another one in each hand. She waitressed for seven years: Chris remembers that from her resume. He remembers the day they met her perfectly.

Frowning, Chris knots his eyebrows, and tries to shake the memory off.

“Seb,” he says quietly, picking up half of the cheese sandwich Elizabeth assembled. “C’mon, pal.”

Sebastian looks vaguely seasick as he steadies himself against the counter and shakes his head.

“Can’t,” is all he replies, swallowing hard. His adam’s apple bobs in his throat.

Chris’s stomach sinks. He holds the stupid cheese sandwich out, and whispers, “Sweetheart, please.”

They stare at each other, Sebastian’s eyes cold and glassy. Chris waits for a repeat of the morning in the conference room, but Sebastian relents before it gets to that. He blinks, eyes watering as his lids move, and lets his gaze drop down to look stubbornly at Chris’s hand.

He takes the sandwich, and bites at a corner.

Chris sags forward, practically falling into Sebastian as he wraps him up in a hug.

~

He leaves Sebastian with a glass of water, and makes his way back to the main area.

They’re each supposed to do a little presentation tonight. Nothing fancy. Mackie and Seb are going to present numbers, and then Chris is going to do some kind of we’re so great rah-rah-rah speech.

The most he’s prepared for is that he’s planning to sweat through his shirt.

Running a hand through his hair, he grabs a bottle of water, and swings by the food table.

He doesn’t realize Amy is also scoping out the veggie tray until it’s too late.

“Look babe,” Amy greets, pointing out a tray of desserts with her drink. “Here are those things you like.”

Chris looks at the plate she’s referring to: pastries.

“Yeah, I thought I liked those,” he says, reaching for a baby tomato. He pops it in his mouth and hopes like hell he doesn’t choke. He’s in the wrong company to be saved. “I guess my taste has changed.”

Amy grins - this is the kind of vicious back and forth game they used to have when they flirted.

“Oh yeah?” she asks, putting two on her own plate. “What’s wrong with them now?”

“Not sure,” he says easily, shrugging. He puts both hands in his pockets and says, “I guess I just find them repulsive.”

That makes her laugh. She smiles up at him as Paul walks up.

“Shit, are those turnovers?” he asks, already reaching for a plate.

Chris pats him on the shoulder and says, “Have at it buddy.”

~

Before they all settle in for their mini presentations, Chris follows Sebastian outside while he has a smoke.

He’s a bit better. He’s still drunk, but not to the point he’s going to puke or pass out.

Small victories.

“Good sandwich, huh?” Chris asks quietly, scuffing the curb with his toe.

Sebastian inhales, cheekbones popping, and breathes out, “It does the trick.”

“When we come back from Connecticut,” Chris starts, nervous. He clears his throat. “It’s going to be different.”

“They’re gonna stop selling booze?” Sebastian asks, a little sour. “Offer me a time machine?”

Chris doesn’t want to get into this here. He meant it to be reassuring, not to start an argument.

“If I could, I would,” he says stupidly, the words stumbling out before he can stop them.

Sebastian flicks ash into the gutter and says, “Yeah. Me too.”

~

Mackie presents first.

It’s a family affair, just their small group in the kitchen with the conference room projector blasting across the biggest white wall. Everyone snags a chair and settles in with a round of food, munching through Mackie’s numbers and sales projections for the next quarter.

After Mackie is Sebastian.

He’s still a little drunk, but everyone is kind to him. They pretend not to notice the way he slurs a couple of words and fumbles with the powerpoint remote. Chris sits with his elbows on his knees and his fingers pressed to his mouth, eyes big and wide and sad as he nervously follows Sebastian from one end of the projection screen to the other.

Amy sits in the fold up chair beside him, one leg crossed over the other, watching Sebastian quietly.

When Sebastian finishes, Paul taps in and takes over a run through of their final design.

Chris tries not to be obvious, but he watches, turning a little bit, as Sebastian drops himself into the empty chair beside Mackie and lets out a heavy sigh. Chris can’t tell what Mackie is saying, but he hears the low murmur of his voice beneath the louder, projected level of Paul’s.

It’s his turn last. Paul tosses him the projector remote, which Chris catches against his thigh.

“Don’t sweat through your shirt this time!” Mackie heckles, getting a laugh.

“No promises,” Chris laughs nervously, trying to push back the rush of adrenaline he feels turning into a flop sweat already. Jesus, are those his hands shaking? He crosses his arms so nobody can see, and says, “Listen, guys, I just want to thank everyone for a really good launch.”

He clears his throat, and tries not to pass out as everyone woo’s and claps.

“You guys are just… you’re the best,” Chris continues, sounding more earnest and less nervous with every word that comes out of his mouth. His gaze trails across his meagre audience, and gets caught on Sebastian, still sitting beside Mackie, both arms crossed over his chest, expression blank. “I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without you.”

“You’re welcome!” Mackie shouts, breaking the tension. 

Chris laughs and glances away from Sebastian, then continues, “I mean it! I met Seb in my own backyard. Before that, this app was just an idea and five years of wishful thinking. He helped bring this to life, and you all have sustained and grown that life. I really can’t thank you enough.”

Before he can get teary about it, he clears his throat and knots his eyebrows.

“Anyway,” he recovers, looking away from Sebastian. He pulls his shirt away from his chest, trying to get some air in there, and concludes with a, “Here’s to a great launch, guys.”

He smiles, mouth closed, and laughs when Mackie shouts for him to sit down.

~

He and Amy are home by midnight.

Chris watches the babysitter out to the car, and loops back around to the kitchen, where Amy is pouring herself a glass of wine over the sink.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Chris asks, not thinking.

Genuinely startled, Amy barks out a laugh and replies, “Are you serious? I’m the one you’re asking that question to?”

“Fuck, Amy, don’t start,” Chris sighs, going through the motions, letting Dodger out onto the back deck.

When Amy doesn’t reply, Chris turns around, expecting to see her ready to throw a kitchen knife his way. But she’s not there. She doesn’t snap back with a grisly retort. Instead, all Chris gets is an empty kitchen: the only trace Amy was ever here at all is the wine cork sitting lonesome on the cutting board.

Chris packs another two day’s worth of clothes, and heads over to Sebastian’s for the night.

~

“I got you some water,” he says quietly, setting a glass down beside Sebastian’s head.

Sebastian’s in bed already; he was there when Chris rolled in, laying in his underwear and watching a 1970s repeat of SNL on the little TV balanced on his dresser. 

“Thanks,” Sebastian says, voice rough. He turns his head as Chris gets into bed beside him.

Chris smiles a little, because Sebastian is still the most beautiful thing, and asks, soft, “What?”

“Just one of those rare moments of happiness,” Sebastian says quietly, eyes blinking slow.

Chris understands. Smiling a little more, he pushes closer, and noses into a kiss. 

~

The app goes live a week before Thanksgiving.

Over four days, they’re featured on all the places Chris spent many years reading: Mashable, Inc, Reddit. 

Entrepreneur Magazine prints a little blurb about them in one of their Startup verticals, too. A year ago, Amy would have cut it out and taken it to Dairy Queen and got it printed on an ice cream cake just for fun. They would have stuck a hundred candles in it and Chris would have laughed his ass off as he blew them out.

This year, Elizabeth leaves the magazine open to the right page on his desk, and Chris reads it quietly by himself.

“Did you see this?” he asks, turning to Sebastian with the magazine in one hand.

Sebastian, at his desk, looks over from his screen, and raises his eyebrows.

“We’re in the big time now, pal,” he teases, making Chris smile.

It’s not all bad. It isn’t. There are bright spots. Today is a bright spot. A good day. An afternoon in the sun.

Chris looks back down to the little blurb, and smiles.

A few days later, Elizabeth hangs a bigger copy in the bathroom over the toilet.

It’s no ice cream cake, but god, it’s close.

~

Chris doesn’t tell Amy he’s going to Connecticut until the night before he leaves.

“That’s fucking cool, Chris,” she snaps, violently snapping a piece of tupperware together. “I guess I’ll just take the dog to my mom’s. Don’t worry about it.”

Fuck. Chris instantly feels like a real asshole. He just - he didn’t think. It wasn’t supposed to be malicious: he just didn’t realize that she’d be counting on him to watch the dog while she’s at her parents with the kids. He imagines Dodger running all over their penthouse steepled high above Tribeca, and grimaces.

“Amy,” he breathes, rubbing his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I can get…” What, his brother to watch him? “I can get him into boarding for a few days. I can pick him up when I’m back.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she says, tossing a bag of brussel sprouts from the fridge to the freezer. Cleaning out before they leave town: some part of her knew Chris wouldn’t be here to eat their food, whether that included plans to watch the dog or not. “I’ll ask Brie.”

Grimacing, Chris sits heavily at the island, and rubs his face.

“Don’t ask Brie,” he says, grumpy. Brie is not his favorite person in the world.

Amy checks the date on a carton of milk, and then tips it over and pours it into the sink.

“Take him with you, then,” she shrugs, back to cool and collected. “Teenagers take care of dogs, Chris, I think you should be able to handle the responsibility for a few days. I can measure out his food before you leave.”

Chris’s entire face wrinkles up into a grimace. Before he can catch himself, he says, “Shut the fuck up, Amy.”

“I can call you every couple hours to make sure you let him out,” she continues, resting the upside down milk carton against the edge of the sink. She looks over at him and adds, “I’ll make a list. I know it’s a struggle for you to remember simple instructions.”

Fired up, Chris snaps, “You’re a trust fund baby, what have you ever known about the struggle?”

“I’ve got three kids and a dog, Chris, every day is a struggle,” she shoots back.

Because the buttons he’s tried pushing so far haven’t done a thing, Chris says, “He didn’t want it. He told me I was making a mistake. I’m the one who pursued him.”

That makes her pause. She freezes over the sink, and it’s only a split second, but there’s sand in her gears.

“What a martyr,” she manages.

Now that Chris has found the weak spot, he can’t stop himself from pushing just a little harder.

“I told him I had feelings for him before the Christmas party,” he continues on, watching as Amy tries to distract herself with another meaningless household task. Tonight, Chris is going to bend his wife until she breaks. He thinks about what he said to Sebastian the other night: _when we come back from Connecticut, it’s going to be different._ “You put on a dress that matched my tie, you remember that?”

She’s tearing up. She brings a hand to her face, and wipes at one eye.

“I remember that,” she says, voice rough.

Chris thinks, _good,_ and then says, “The first time I kissed him, I was wearing that tie.”

Amy doesn’t have anything to say to that. She just looks at the counter - at the thousand jars of condiments she’s pulled out of the fridge over the course of tonight’s binge cleaning episode - and sags. The longer it takes her to say something, the more on edge Chris becomes.

“I fucking hate you,” she finally laughs, grimacing through it, like she can’t believe what she’s saying. Once she starts laughing, she can’t stop. She straightens up, and says, “You’re this - this funhouse mirror, or something! I feel like I’ve never met you before.”

That one lands. Chris’s forehead wrinkles.

“I haven’t changed,” he lies.

Amy wipes her eyes one last time - residual tears, the remains of Chris’s last ditch effort to hurt her, and says, “I miss my best friend. I didn’t know who I was going to be without you, but I guess I know now, because that guy doesn’t exist anymore. He’s just gone and… and… you’re here instead.”

“Lucky you,” Chris frowns.

Rolling her eyes, Amy counters, “Lucky Sebastian.”

“He makes me better,” Chris replies, watching her. If this is the last time they ever speak outside of a lawyer's table, he wants to make sure she understands why things happened the way they did. “He doesn’t prop me up so it looks like I give a fuck. He makes me want to be better.”

“He can barely prop himself up,” Amy snorts, back to what she was doing. “Jesus, Chris, he’s an alcoholic. Whatever the fuck you’re doing to him isn’t helping.”

Jaw clenching, Chris looks at her, and then bites his thumbnail, and then gets off of the stool.

“I’m going to bed,” he finally announces, raising his eyebrows. “My flight’s early, so I’ll see you when I get back. Have fun at your moms.”

He texts Sebastian - maybe he could stay over tonight, their flight is so early in the morning - but doesn’t get a response.

Sighing, Chris settles into the couch, and pulls the quilt up over his shoulder.

~

Chris is in a cab and rolling up in front of Sebastian’s apartment before the sun rises.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he greets, getting out of the backseat to help Sebastian load his suitcase into the trunk.

Before they get inside, he snags Sebastian by the elbow and pulls him close by the back of the head. Sebastian laughs as Chris kisses him, tired but unable to keep his hands to himself. Chris leaves Sebastian to one door, and heads around to the other side of the cab. By the time he’s climbing into the backseat, Sebastian’s got his gloves off, and he’s rubbing his hands together as he makes small talk about how cold it is for November with the driver.

The drive to JFK is quiet. It starts to rain as they emerge from the other side of the Queens-Midtown tunnel.

“I’m going to start looking for a place when we get back,” Chris says quietly, staring at their hands in his lap.

Sebastian offers him a tired little smile, leans his head back against the seat, and says, “We’ll see about that.”

“I’m thinking the west coast, maybe,” Chris teases, choosing to smooth over Sebastian’s lack of faith in his decisions rather than concentrate on them. He makes a face, wrinkling one eye up like he can see the future, and adds, “Somewhere I can wear shorts all year round.”

Laughing, Sebastian shakes his head and replies, “I like my jeans and t-shirts just fine, pal.”

“Aww, come on,” Chris says, voice low. Sebastian grins again, nose wrinkling up, and bumps his head against Chris’s shoulder as Chris squeezes his hand.

They pull up outside the airport just as the sun is coming up over the parkway. After two trips already, they’ve got their own system: it doesn’t take very long at all to get checked in and through security. Soon enough, they’re waiting at their gate with coffee and breakfast bagels.

“Gross,” Chris grimaces, extracting a slice of tomato. He unceremoniously plops it on Sebastian’s open wrapper.

Laughing, Sebastian picks up the whole slice and tips his head back, looking at Chris out of the corner of his eye as he slowly drops it into his open mouth. Chris alternates between laughing and eww-ing as Sebastian leans over, still chewing and now trying to sniff out a kiss.

When they’re done, Chris crunches up all their garbage and sticks it in the nearest trash can, and then it’s time to board.

~

In Connecticut, it’s pouring rain.

Their flight was short and easy: no turbulence, a smooth landing. Chris gave Sebastian the window seat, mostly because he was still feeling stupid and protective after Amy’s comments from the night before, and leaned against his shoulder as they watched the little in-flight map.

The further that little dot got away from Queens, the better Chris felt.

And, now, in New Haven, here they are at their home for the next few nights. Thanksgiving is tomorrow night, and then they’ll have two full days to relax before heading back to New York on Sunday, in time to show up for work Monday.

“This says there’s a grocery store one block over,” Chris narrates, bent over the kitchen counter and flipping through the little print-out of local stops the AirBnb owners left for them. He arches an eyebrow over at Sebastian and adds, “I’m comfortable eating in every night.”

“My god, there are jokes I could make about that,” Sebastian grins, leaning on the other side of the counter, so they’re face to face. He raises his eyebrows and adds, “Lots, and lots… of jokes.”

Laughing, Chris raises his eyebrows back, and says in a funny voice, “Try me.”

The grocery store is only a block away, but it feels like a hell of a lot further when you’re being pelted by rain.

“This was a terrible idea,” Sebastian laughs, running behind Chris with his jacket pulled up over his head.

Chris splashes through a puddle, instantly soaking the leg of his jeans, and cracks up when he almost loses his own jacket to the wind. When he gets to the corner of the block, he turns around, squinting into the rain to make sure Sebastian is still with him.

“It’s colder than I thought!” Chris exclaims, as Sebastian almost bumps into him, and they start running again.

Inside the grocery store, they get all kinds of looks as they roll in completely soaked to the bone. Chris can’t stop laughing, body wild with endorphins for the first time in such a long time that the resulting euphoria feels foreign.

“Oh my god,” Sebastian laughs, helpless, as he tries to wring himself off just outside the doors.

It’s one of those things - those surreal events - he’ll always be able to look back on. In ten years, Chris will hear the song that’s playing over the speakers as he reaches for a box of dried pasta, and remember exactly how he felt as his fingers bumped against the metal shelf.

Chris unwedges his wallet from his wet back pocket, and pays for their groceries in cash.

As they emerge back into the rainy parking lot, momentarily sheltered by the gigantic old school plastic awning that hangs out three feet in front of the main doors, Sebastian hesitates. His fingers flex around his half of the grocery bags he’s carrying, one plastic handle twisted in each hand.

God, Chris was naive to think this moment wouldn’t come.

“It’s okay,” he says, voice stilted, weird. “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

Sebastian studies his expression for a second longer, and then nods and quietly sets the grocery bags down at Chris’s feet before he steps out into the rain. The liquor store is one set of doors down, right after the shoe repair place in this strange little strip mall.

He waits there while Sebastian gets what he needs, and feels dumb about the whole thing.

He was stupid and naive to think that just being together would be enough to curb Sebastian’s bad habits. He should have known better.

When Sebastian comes back, soaked again and with a brown paper bag tucked underneath one arm, Chris offers a tight smile.

It’s all he knows how to do, when it comes to this.

~

Chris pours himself a drink when they get back to their rental.

It takes the pressure off.

“What do you know about Thanksgiving dinners,” Sebastian laughs, arms looped up around Chris’s neck. Chris has a glass full of bourbon and ice in one hand, and Sebastian’s butt in the other.

That one drink quickly turned into two. Two to three, and now…

“I know enough,” Chris grins, leaning in for a kiss. “I’ll make you the best turkey sandwich you’ve ever had.”

Laughing, Sebastian bumps into the edge of the kitchen counter, and tugs Chris down into another kiss.

“You’re mean to me,” Sebastian teases, bottom lip bumping against Chris’s as he talks. “You’re real mean, pal, making jokes about sandwiches. Whatever happened to a turkey dinner, huh?”

Chris slides his hand up Sebastian’s t-shirt, and murmurs, “Maybe next year. Maybe next year I’ll make you a real nice spread.”

“Oh that’s the dream, huh?” Sebastian asks, tilting his head back as Chris kisses down the line of his jaw. “That’s the plan, he’s gonna look for somewhere to live on Monday, and he’s gonna make me a real live dinner a whole year from now.”

“That’s the plan,” Chris murmurs, grinning. He brings his drink up for another sip. It feels better, when he’s drinking. Chris understands why Sebastian does it to himself. Everything is within reach. Chris grins close at Sebastian’s face, and teases, “I think you better write that in your calendar. I think you better pencil me in.”

“Just in pencil,” Sebastian teases back, laughing when Chris picks him up and sets him on the countertop.

They watch each other, real close, Chris’s hands still wandering along the strip where Sebastian’s bare torso disappears up underneath his t-shirt.

“You gonna give a guy the dance he’s been asking for since San Francisco?” Chris asks, voice soft.

Sebastian smiles at him, but then bites it down. As he goes to shake his head, Chris laughs and tries to hold him still by the chin, so he can’t.

“Don’t break my heart, sweetheart,” Chris teases, almost knocking his drink off the counter. He wraps an arm around Sebastian’s hips, and cracks up as Sebastian pushes him away by the face. “This is how it’s gonna be now, huh?” Chris struggles out, cheek smooshed by Sebastian’s palm, making it hard to talk.

Sebastian is still cracking up, but he eases up and murmurs, “That’s how it’s gonna be.”

Chris smiles back at him and leans down, until he’s resting his cheek against Sebastian’s shoulder. It’s nice. It’s - it’s safe, is what it is, after a lot of moments where it felt like they were both on shaky ground. Sebastian seems to sense that, because he throws back the rest of his drink, and then wraps both arms around Chris’s shoulders, holding him in a tight hug.

Some wires get crossed in Chris’s brain - he doesn’t know what happens - maybe some hurt manages to break through his safety net of alcohol. All of a sudden, there are tears dripping down his cheeks.

“Jeez, if you’re gonna cry about it,” Sebastian says softly, teasing.

Chris laughs, wet and sad and stupid, and wipes his nose.

They’ve had the kitchen radio on since they got back from the grocery store. Sebastian stretches one arm out, the other still wrapped around Chris’s shoulders, and turns the volume up. The local radio station has been doing some kind of 70s series all day - every hour, another year in the decade.

“Alright, Elton,” Sebastian teases, sliding off the counter. He reaches back and quickly pours himself another slug of bourbon, just enough to cover the melting ice already in the bottom of his glass, and turns back asking, “You gonna let me stand on your feet?”

Grinning, Chris sniffs, and sneaks close, so he can wrap both arms around Sebastian’s waist.

“I don’t know about that,” he murmurs, palms coasting over the stretches of Sebastian’s back muscles.

Sebastian smiles back at him, and lets Chris start to sway them to the music.

“My dad loves this song,” Sebastian laughs, a little dry.

Chris licks his lips and pulls them into his mouth and looks into Sebastian’s face.

“An elusive dad fact,” he teases softly, not wanting to scare this rare scrap of new information away. Before Sebastian can retreat or change the subject, Chris says, matter of fact, “Everyone loves Boston.”

Sebastian gives him a “whatever you say, pal,” face, and then cracks up when Chris goes for a dip but they almost fall over instead.

“No way,” Sebastian laughs, a little out of breath as they right one another, clinging in each other’s arms. Chris laughs, and lets his hands drop to Sebastian’s waist, where he tries to loosen his hips up a little. Sebastian pulls Chris’s arm back up over his shoulder, and teases as Chris’s face suddenly gets close, “I’m a two feet on the ground kinda guy.”

Chris relaxes his arm around Sebastian’s shoulders and pulls back, laughing.

On the last song they dance to, Chris sings along obnoxiously, and changes “Brandy” to “Sebby” as often as he can. Somehow he knows most of the lyrics, and by the end of the song, Sebastian is cracking up as Chris swings him around, trying to be as serious as he can even though he keeps dipping back into laughter.

As the song fades into a radio bumper, Chris tugs Sebastian close, laughing into his hair.

~

The next morning, Chris wakes up hungover.

Actually he might still be a little bit drunk. Jesus, he doesn’t even remember going to bed. He remembers drinking in the kitchen, and they might have been out on the deck while Sebastian smoked, but everything after that is gone. Chris rubs his face with one hand, and has about a half a second of peace before he realizes he’s about to puke.

He falls out of bed, knee banging the floor, and manages to run to the bathroom just in time to get over the toilet bowl.

Sebastian wakes up in the other room, voice rough and groggy as he asks, “Chris?”

Chris pukes - his body doesn’t give him the chance to make the decision between answering Sebastian, and heaving more booze out - and holds onto the sides of the toilet, throat tightening up as he gags and strains.

By the time he’s done, his face is red and he thinks it’s possible he burst a blood vessel. Spitting, Chris reaches for the toilet paper, and wipes his mouth off uselessly. He drops the toilet paper on top of his puke and stares down at his bad decisions, eyes watering down his cheeks from the force of the booze coming up.

He drank way, way too much last night.

“You okay?” Sebastian asks, appearing in the door frame. Chris looks at him through the mirror over the sink, spits into the toilet once more, and then flops back against the wall.

How does Sebastian do this every day?

“Peachy,” Chris grimaces, struggling to reach for a towel. He’s sweaty. When did he start sweating?

Sebastian frowns, and then crosses the bathroom. He flushes the toilet, and drops himself to the ground beside Chris.

They sit there, bare toes touching on the nice tiled floor, until Sebastian asks, “Is this what you thought your life would be like?”

“No,” Chris laughs helplessly. Easily. He turns his head, and looks at Sebastian’s profile. “How about you?”

Sebastian is looking at nothing, lost in his own thoughts. After a moment, he chews his bottom lip, and shakes his head.

“Never,” he says softly, turning to look over at Chris.

Smiling, Chris reaches for Sebastian’s hand, and links their fingers together on the cold tile floor.

They sit there for a minute, until Chris flips around quickly, fighting his way back to his knees when another wave of nausea breaks like a piece of wood over his back.

~

Chris falls back asleep once he pukes again and drinks just enough water to keep some ibuprofen down.

“Tylenol’s no good,” Sebastian explained quietly, embarrassed by his own knowledge.

When he wakes up that afternoon, no longer drunk, just dry and tired, Sebastian is smoking on the balcony off their bedroom, the quilt from the foot of the bed wrapped around his bare shoulders. Chris reaches up and tucks the pillow better under his head, so he doesn’t have to struggle to see over his chest.

He watches Sebastian quietly, but he isn’t content. He can’t shake the ebb of humiliation still lapping at his ankles.

Blacking out always comes with a price, and, even though he checked his phone - and his texts, and his Facebook - he can’t shake the bad feeling in his gut.

Is this how Sebastian feels every day? Chris wouldn’t be able to sustain this for a week.

“Hey, you’re up,” Sebastian says quietly, sliding back between curtain and door frame.

Chris smiles, a little. The smell of smoke trails in after Sebastian - like always - but this morning, it makes Chris feel sick.

“Is it still raining?” he asks, one hand reaching out to coast over Sebastian’s hair as he crawls back into bed, still wrapped in the quilt.

Sebastian settles into his side, head rested in the crook of Chris’s arm.

“A little bit,” he says quietly, tugging the quilt up around his chin.

They lay there in silence for a long time. Chris lets his fingers trail up and down Sebastian’s arm as he stares up at the ceiling, mind wandering. Sebastian doesn’t say anything, either, but Chris can feel his eyelashes moving as he blinks. 

“Seb,” Chris says, after a long, long pause. His voice is rough. 

Sebastian’s breath catches, before he whispers, “My heart is racing.”

Chris lets out a choked out laugh, tears springing to his eyes. He breathes, “Mine is too.”

That makes Sebastian laugh, but it sounds like it’s right on that knife edge of tears. Chris watches as Sebastian fights his way up onto one elbow. He tries to smile, he tries to keep the encouraging expression on his face, but it’s hard. Sebastian looks down at him, and Chris blinks back tears. He doesn’t want this to hurt. 

Even though he might deserve that, Sebastian doesn’t.

He doesn’t have the guts or the skill to make this relationship work. There’s too much damage already done - they’d be here for years, just trying to undo what they’ve already done wrong.

That kind of purgatory is something Chris has earned, but Sebastian…

“I know this isn’t sustainable,” he manages. He has to pause to take a steadying breath. “But I really wanted it to be.”

The corner of Sebastian’s mouth lifts up into a sad, small, smile.

“Me too, pal,” he replies, rough.

“I love you so much,” Chris manages to get out, now that the tears are really starting to drip down his face.

He can’t help it, he smooths his palm down the side of Sebastian’s jaw, thumb brushing his cheekbone, fingers trailing along his cheek. Sebastian is trying hard to be strong: Chris can see the flinty resilience behind his expression, the way his bottom lip wobbles where he bites it between his teeth.

Sebastian doesn’t say anything to that. He just combs his fingers through Chris’s hair, and smiles sadly, and leans down to press a soft kiss to his mouth.

~

A few hours later, Chris calls the airline to change the return date on his ticket.

~

“I made you a sandwich,” Chris says, voice rough.

He sets the plate down on the patio table in front of Sebastian.

“Thanks,” Sebastian replies, cigarette between two fingers, elbow on his knee and thumb braced against his chin.

Chris sniffs. He’s been crying off and on all evening, including one extra embarrassing round that happened while in the middle of his conversation with the airline customer service representative. She’d asked why he was changing his return date, and that was that.

He sits down in the empty deck chair beside Sebastian’s.

Since then, the rain has stopped, and then sun has gone down, and now here they are. Living through their last moments on earth together.

“When you leave on Sunday,” Chris says softly, unable to look at Sebastian’s face. “Don’t forget to put the key back in the mailbox.”

Beside him, Sebastian takes a long, neverending drag of his cigarette, and manages to get out a, “Sure.”

“And if you get a cab to the airport, use the number on the fridge,” he continues, voice beginning to shake.

Sebastian, now wiping his face, nods and manages a watery, shaky, smile. He promises, “I will.”

“If you need something, call me,” Chris barrels on, vision blurry. “I’ll pick up.”

Sniffing, wiping his nose, Sebastian manages to laugh and reply, “I don’t know about that.”

“Call Elizabeth,” Chris negotiates, desperate. He needs to know Sebastian will be okay.

Sebastian nods, and stubs his cigarette out, and immediately lights another one.

Chris begins to dread the darkening color of the sky. All of the moments they’ve stolen together, and now here they are, in the sudden twilight of a thousand bright memories.

The rain starts up again around midnight. They’re back in bed when water begins to tap the windows like it wants in.

“I never would have been able to shake it,” Sebastian says quietly, after a long period of silence.

Chris tilts his head forward, and presses his mouth to Sebastian’s bare shoulder. They’re both staring at the window across the room, even though it’s too dark to see anything outside.

When Sebastian doesn’t continue, Chris tightens the arm around Sebastian’s waist, and makes a curious noise.

“The guilt,” Sebastian whispers, still staring forward. After a beat, he turns his head, until his nose brushes Chris’s jaw. He looks up at Chris, mouth twitching into a close mouthed smile. He adds, “Can’t outrun that.”

Chris brushes his thumb across Sebastian’s bottom lip, and says, “You sure gave it a hell of a try, sweetheart.”

Sebastian just gives him a sad, small smile, eyes red and watery, and lifts his hand up to hold the side of Chris’s head. Chris doesn’t realize it’s happening until he’s moving, and they’re kissing, the kind of kiss that consumes you, that can’t be translated and will never be shared with another person.

Chris brushes his fingers through Sebastian’s hair and thumbs his jaw and tries to get his fill.

~

He doesn’t have to set an alarm.

The numbers on the clock on his side of the bed betray him. They move so fast, every change of the number a step closer to Chris having to act on his decision. At 3:58, Chris swallows tight, and tries not to cry. At 3:59, Chris blinks up at the dark ceiling, and tries to come up with a way to buy himself more time.

There’s got to be a way to get more time.

At 4:00, he bites back the tears swallowing him up, and edges both legs over his side of the bed.

Behind him, on the mattress, Sebastian lays still, eyes closed, breathing too fast to be asleep.

Chris takes his phone from the nightstand, and fumbles his way through the darkness, to where his bag is packed and ready to go in the hallway. He doesn’t stop to brush his teeth or wash his face or change out of the clothes he fell asleep in.

He leaves, because every second he doesn’t makes it harder to walk away.

~

In the cab to the airport, Chris is a zombie.

Aside from a glum, “Tweed New Haven,” Chris doesn’t say a word to the driver.

A small, terrified piece of his brain reminds Chris, _This was always Sebastian’s job._

The cab driver goes on a short diatribe about the early morning weather, but, after glancing at Chris’s reflection in the rear view mirror, makes no further attempts to start a conversation.

Chris, in turn, sits in the back seat, and looks out the raindrop covered window as dark, 4:00 AM buildings pass him by.

“Need help with your luggage?” the driver asks, looking at Chris in the rear view mirror one more time.

Startled, Chris squints at the scenery out his window, and realizes that they’ve already arrived at the airport.

“No,” Chris says, voice rough. He reaches for the handle, and lies, “I’m alright on my own.”

~

In the air over the bay, Chris locks himself in the bathroom at the back of the plane, and cries like a baby until the flight attendant politely knocks on the door.

~

He gets back to Harlem around breakfast time.

“Daddy!” Peyton exclaims, surprised, as the door swings closed behind Chris. “We thought you were gone for a whole week!”

The dog sniffs around the wheels of Chris’s luggage, and wags his tail.

“Did you have a good time yesterday?” he asks, crumbling into a smile as Peyton wraps her arms around his legs.

He had a panic attack on the plane, after all. The flight attendant that found him in the bathroom stall gave him a motion sickness bag to breathe into, and then, when that didn’t help, moved him to a seat near the front of the plane. They ended up sitting him behind a small curtain because he was starting to scare the other passengers.

“So fun!” Peyton exclaims, still grabbing at his waist.

Amy comes around the corner from the kitchen as Chris is kicking his shoes off. He just happens to look over at the same time that she winds through the door frame, a coffee in one hand, and a piece of toast in the other.

“But I’m so glad you came back,” Peyton continues, as Chris and Amy stare at each other.

She looks like she’s seen a ghost. Chris doesn’t try to hide his face, red and splotchy, expression haunted and sad.

When Amy disregards him and moves for the stairs, Chris looks back down at Peyton.

His daughter is already looking up at him. She pauses, unsure, before asking, “Are you sad, daddy?”

“I’m happy to see you,” he replies automatically, raising both eyebrows. And he is - he is happy to see her - but he can’t shake the thought of Sebastian, left alone and lying in the dark. That’s the last moment in Sebastian’s life that Chris will ever be privy to; everything from the moment he walked out the door now belongs to somebody else. He clears his throat, brows tightening. “I’m just tired. Do you want pancakes?”

From the depths of the living room, he hears Austin echo, “Pancakes!”

“PANCAKES,” Peyton bellows, somehow thirty decibels louder than her brother.

Chris goes into the kitchen, and makes pancakes.


	16. EPILOGUE

Two weeks before Christmas, he got the email from Sebastian’s lawyers.

There was nothing personal about it: just a resignation, a confirmation that he was prepared to sell his share of the company back to Chris, and a formal follow-up date.

Sebastian wasn’t even CC’d on the email, and it was only sent to Chris’s work address.

That was the day Chris put the hole in the wall by accident.

~

Amy served him their divorce papers the same day he got back from Connecticut.

“Didn’t expect you back so early,” she’d said, tossing the folder flat onto the kitchen table. When Chris looked down at the official looking papers, and then back up at her, she’d just shrugged and added, “Scott recommended someone.”

That was the last morning Chris spent at home.

~

The Monday after Thanksgiving, Elizabeth unlocked the office door to discover Chris alone.

He’d been there all weekend - by himself, a mess - not eating, not sleeping. He tried calling Sebastian three separate times, but Sebastian never picked up.

After everything, Elizabeth was the only one who helped him. He stayed with her and her husband for a week after that. They helped find him an apartment agent.

In the search, they stumbled across Dallas’s contact information.

That was the day Chris had to ask for permission to retrieve his own belongings from the house.

~

It wasn’t until January that Chris found out Sebastian went straight from New Haven to rehab.

With tax season right around the corner, Elizabeth forwarded some accounting information to Sebastian’s temporary address in Ithaca, care of Cayuga Addiction Recovery Services. 

That was the beginning of a short, hard, downward spiral for Chris. The same day he found out about Ithaca, he went on a bender trying to find Sebastian online. Anything would have sufficed: a picture, an update, some scrap of something that Chris hadn’t seen yet.

That was the day Chris realized Sebastian had him blocked everywhere.

~

When Chris looks back at how things turned out, he sees a line of dominos.

Every domino is an event, and every space between is a moment where he could have done something.

Where he could have said something.

~

At the office, the picture wall is still up, mostly because Chris has banned anyone from touching it.

He never - he never got the guts to come out and say it, even to Elizabeth. As far as Paul and Mackie know, Sebastian just left one day, and never came back.

Chris was the only one to sit there, watching as Elizabeth packed Sebastian’s desk up. She emptied his drawers, first: small things, stupid things, a sticky note that said _FRIDAY????_ in Sebastian’s all uppercase, blocky printing, that made Chris cry.

There were empty bottles, a lot of them, stashed in the space between the desk and wall.

The empties went into the recycling, and everything else was packed away into two little boxes. And all of a sudden, that was it. Sebastian’s involvement in their lives successfully pulled behind a curtain, ready to be delivered to a then undetermined forwarding address.

“If you want,” Elizabeth offered after, hovering around Chris’s desk. “I can… I can take some stuff down.”

He didn’t want that. He was torn between wishing the wall never existed in the first place, and wishing he’d never left Connecticut, but he knew he didn’t want that.

~

Sometimes, Chris looks at the picture of himself in that pink hoodie in San Francisco, and remembers exactly how the air smelled.

~

A YEAR LATER

~

It’s that time of the year again: there are holiday specials on TV, and red cups at Starbucks.

“I want to see SANTA,” Peyton yells, dragging Chris along behind her.

She’s a hell of a lot stronger these days.

Chris has the kids for Thanksgiving, mostly because Amy wants - and gets - them for Christmas. 

After a series of aborted attempts at pretending he had any idea what he was doing, looking after two kids by himself, he’d made it a priority to make new traditions. Mostly because he didn’t realize that Amy was at the center of all the old ones until it was too late: they all still worked, whether Chris was there to participate, or not.

The Macy’s parade is something they used to avoid at all costs, so that’s where Chris will be.

“Alright, we’re going, we’re going!” he promises, laughing.

They’re walking around the corner from Bloomingdale’s when they run into Sebastian.

Sebastian.

Chris’s mind blanks.

“SEBBY!” Peyton shouts, letting go of Chris’s hand so she can clap hers together.

The first thing Chris notices, out of everything, is that Sebastian has cut his hair.

“Wow - hello,” Sebastian manages, shock written all over his face.

The guy he’s walking with stops, too, a warm smile already on his face - and, nope, Chris thinks, no, that isn’t right. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

“I have the kids for the weekend,” he blurts. Ah, there it is. “We’re looking at the windows.”

Sebastian gives him a careful look - one eyebrow raised - before his gaze swings down, and jesus, Chris wasn’t prepared for this. When he woke up six hours ago, he didn’t think this would be the day. He watches, horrified, as Sebastian turns to smile at the guy he’s with.

“Jeez, sorry, introductions,” he says, and at first, Chris thinks Sebastian is talking to him, but then he realizes he’s talking to his - his friend. “This is Chris, my ex-business partner,” he explains, before turning back to Chris. This time, Chris notices when Sebastian’s gaze hangs on his hand - left ring finger now bare. Sebastian’s eyes snap up to meet Chris’s. “Chris, this is - this is Daniel.”

Chris doesn’t hear a word past, “my ex-business partner.”

He’s not an ex-boyfriend, he’s not an ex anything else. 

Just a business deal gone wrong, as far as the rest of the world is concerned.

“And these are Chris’s kids,” Sebastian continues, now grinning as he looks at the kids. “Peyton and Austin.”

“We miss you!” Peyton exclaims, getting right to it. Chris fights the urge to clamp a hand over her mouth.

Daniel raises one arm and hangs it around Sebastian’s shoulders as the other reaches out to shake Chris’s hand, and then fistbump Austin and Peyton.

As Daniel gets into a conversation with Austin about the video game character on his shirt, Sebastian catches Chris’s eye.

“How are you doing?” he asks.

Sebastian looks - he looks good. He looks healthy. He isn’t strung out, and those bags under his eyes are gone like they were never there. For a split second, something changes in his expression, and god, there’s the guy Chris knows - but Sebastian catches himself fast, and it closes off.

“I get by,” Chris answers, lump in his throat.

He hasn’t been - it hasn’t been the best year.

“Good,” Sebastian answers, the corners of his mouth turning up into a polite smile. He looks at Chris once more, and then catches his breath and slides right back into the conversation as Daniel and Austin finish. “It was nice to see you guys again!”

He gives the kids high fives, and then offers one more smile for Chris.

“Nice to meet you, man,” Daniel nods, adjusting his arm around Sebastian’s shoulders.

Chris goes to say something, but there’s a frog in his throat. After a minute, he creaks out, “Yeah, you too.”

“Good to see you,” Sebastian says, already turning as Daniel directs them towards a crosswalk that is currently blinking WALK. He bites his bottom lip, tongue sneaking out, and adds, “Good luck with everything,” before his gaze flicks back to the kids and he calls, “Bye, guys!”

Both of Chris’s kids wave and yell BYE SEB as Chris stands there, frozen.

“Bye, pal,” he echoes, but Sebastian is already crossing the street.

Austin and Peyton move on like the entire world didn’t just slam to a halt. Jesus, Chris wants to yell, does anyone see this? Does anyone see that Sebastian just waltzed into his life and then left again before Chris even got to catch his breath?

“Dad, come on,” Austin groans, already trudging down the sidewalk.

But - wait - it’s not, that’s not - that’s not right. Right? Chris stands there, completely lost, watching Sebastian get further and further away.

It takes a full minute for Sebastian to disappear, but Chris watches it happen, piece by piece.

Sebastian doesn’t look back once.

~

The next morning, Chris tears the picture wall down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please send all hate mail to me, [sidnihoudini](http://sidnihoudini.tumblr.com), at tumblr dot com.
> 
> Update March 2018: If you'd like to support this story, please [consider rating it on Amazon](http://goo.gl/rR5Kkz)!


	17. PLAYLISTS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music is always a huge part of the creative process for me, but I found that to be exceptionally true with homewrecker. When I started planning this story in August of 2016, one of the first things I did was create a playlist to get my brain going.
> 
> Over the next year, I had to break that playlist into multiples, because, well, she got a little out of control.

**Songs referenced in the fic**  
The Middle - Jimmy Eat World (Chapter 3)  
El Scorcho - Weezer (Chapter 4)  
Dream a Little Dream of Me - The Mamas  & The Papas (Chapter 7)  
Tonight You Belong to Me - Lennon Sisters (Chapter 12)  
Walk On the Wild Side - Lou Reed (Chapter 13)  
Brandy - Looking Glass (Chapter 15)

 **Homewrecker Boner Mix**  
Got You On My Mind - NF  
Not In Love - Crystal Castles ft. Robert Smith  
Julian - Say Lou Lou  
Bloodstream - Stateless  
Running Up That Hill - Placebo  
Before I Ever Met You - Banks  
Papi Pacify - FKA twigs  
Talk Show Host - Radiohead  
Me and Your Mama - Childish Gambino  
Special Needs - Placebo  
I Wanna Be Adored - The Stone Roses

 **Homewrecker Semi Sad Mix**  
England - The National  
Chandelier - Sia  
A Praise Chorus - Jimmy Eat World  
Good Woman - Cat Power  
We’re Going to Be Friends - The White Stripes  
Your Woman - White Town  
Genesis - Grimes  
Lucky You - The National  
Back to Black - Amy Winehouse  
Sink - Brand New  
Where is My Mind? - Pixies  
Between the Bars - Elliott Smith  
You and I - Wilco  
Tonight You Belong to Me - Eddie Vedder ft. Cat Power  
Habits (Stay High) - Tove Lo  
Everyday I Love You Less and Less - Kaiser Chiefs  
Side Walks When She Walks - alexisonfire  
Francis Forever - Mitski  
Somewhat Damaged - Nine Inch Nails

 **Homewrecker Semi Super Sad / Finale Mix**  
Not an Addict - K’s Choice  
So Here We Are - Bloc Party  
You’re Somebody Else - flora cash  
Eucalyptus - The Deadly Syndrome  
Happiness By The Kilowatt - alexisonfire  
Forrest Gump - Frank Ocean  
Guarda Come Dondolo - Edoardo Vianello  
I Can’t Fall In Love Without You - Zara Larsson  
Impossible Year - Panic! At the Disco  
I Thought I Saw Your Face Today - She  & Him  
Gonna Get Along Without You Now - Skeeter Davis  
Rough Hands - alexisonfire  
Manhattan - Blossom Dearie  
I Know You All Over Again - Trixie Mattel  
Can’t Take My Eyes Off You - Carey Brothers  
I Can’t Let It Happen to You - The Walker Brothers  
This Mess We’re In - PJ Harvey  
The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore - The Walker Brothers  
I Fall In Love Too Easily - Chet Baker  
This Guy’s In Love With You - These New Puritans

 **Soundtrack Mix**  
We’re Going to Be Friends - The White Stripes  
_Tonight I'll dream while I'm in bed / when silly thoughts go through my head / about the bugs and alphabet / and when I wake tomorrow / I'll bet that you and I will walk together again / I can tell that we are gonna be friends / Yes I can tell that we are gonna be friends._

Good Woman - Cat Power  
_I don't want be a bad women / And I can't stand to see you be a bad man / I will miss your heart so tender / And I will love / This love forever_

You and I - Wilco  
_But you and I / I think we can take it / All the good with the bad / Make something that no one else has but / You and I, you and I_

Tonight You Belong to Me - Eddie Vedder ft. Cat Power  
_I know (I know) / you belong / To somebody new / But tonight / You belong to me_

Bloodstream - Stateless  
_Wake up and look me in the eyes again / I need to feel your hand upon my face / I think I might've inhaled you / I can feel you behind my eyes / You've gotten into my bloodstream_

Special Needs - Placebo  
_Remember me when you clinch your movie deal / Remember me through flash photography and screams / Remember me, special dreams_

Sink - Brand New  
_I don't want to let you go / But it hurts my hands to hold the rope / I won't be such an easy mark / You're no better then they say / If you call then I'm coming to get you / If you call then I'm coming, now_

This Mess We’re In - PJ Harvey  
_I just want to say / Don't ever change now baby / And thank you / I don't think we will meet again / And you must leave now / Before the sunrise / Above skyscrapers / The sin and / This mess we're in and / The city sun sets over me_

The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore - The Walker Brothers  
_The sun ain't gonna shine anymore / The moon ain't gonna rise in the sky / The tears are always clouding your eyes / When you're without love, baby_

I Can’t Fall In Love Without You - Zara Larsson  
_I can be out every night / yeah / no one else holding me down / yeah / I can do just what I like / yeah / But I can't fall in love without you / Please don't fall in love without me_

I Fall In Love Too Easily - Chet Baker  
_I fall in love too easily / I fall in love too fast / I fall in love too terribly hard / For love to ever last_

Somewhat Damaged - Nine Inch Nails  
_How could I / ever think / it's funny how / everything you swore would never change / is different now / like you said / "You and me” “make it through" / didn't quite / fell apart / where the fuck were you?_


End file.
